Edmund Blair Leighton, English
“Hey, So You’re a Milkmaid? I’ve Got a Good One For You: Why Do Cows Have Hooves Instead of Feet? Because They Lactose! Get It? Okay, That Was Kind of Cheesy, So Here’s Another One…” 1920
Oil on panel
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Artist info is pointed to in my comment at another blog entry.
/// “Milking cows is your job, how’d you fail?”
Elsie’s answer, a stale Oft Told Tale:
“With the bucket near full,
I reached under the bull
by mistake. He kicked over the pail.”
/// The young farmer’s inclined to ignore
what she’d done, though it happened before.
Her defense wasn’t lying,
and there’s no sense in crying
over milk that got spilt on the floor.
/// In the past he’d been tempted to scold
her for wasting what could have been sold.
She by now should predict
that the pail will be kicked
when she milks cows with fingers too cold.
/// But the truth was he found the girl charming,
and her ditzy demeanor disarming.
Her sweet face he’d adore
by the farmhouse Dutch door,
but she’s clearly not cut out for farming.
/// Elsie’s pretty, sweet-tempered, but dim,
so he gave her this pitch on a whim.
With the technique she had,
as a milkmaid she’s bad.
He suggested she practice on him.
// When he offered a tip, he surmised
she might take it, but now he’s surprised
that sharp nails and tight grip
when combined caused a rip,
and he finds that he’s now circumcised.
/// As he stood in the barn vestibule,
she approached with a three-legged stool.
She inquired as she frowned,
“Which part goes on the ground?
I’ve tried both ways, and neither seems cool.”
/// “With the three thingies down in the mud,
it’s unsteady— I fell with a thud.
If they’re up I take care
with just how and just where
I sit down. One wrong move and there’s blood.”