They call you a cow 

When you walk down the street

That doesn’t make any sense to me,

As I have been to a farm once before

And cows there, I have seen.

So I would like to know why

You are called that name

And what does it really mean,

As you don’t look or act like a cow

But maybe there’s something, I haven’t seen.

Your daughters bow their head 

Whenever they are next to you

As though as they are ashamed,

Is it their fault for that name your called

If not, then who is to be blame.

Women still point at you

And the men they still smile

Whenever that you walk by,

I still don’t understand that name your called

But maybe one day, I will ask you why.

Questions come to my mind

About the word your called

Every time that you are walking past,

Like will they ever stop calling you a cow

Or will that name forever last.

As you don’t moo

And you are not fat at all

And certainly your not cover up in fur,

But your called a cow on a daily bases

And to me that seems so absurd.

So when your daughters get older

Will they also be called cows

Just like you, their dear old mother,

Maybe that’s why they are bowing their heads

They are pretending or wishing they are some other.

And the women they still point

As the men they still smile and talk

Whenever you walk that mile,

Then maybe in fact you are what you are

And maybe indeed, you are a cow.

RANDY L. MCCLAVE