Mama is my Breeder's favorite cow;
She gets to stand in the very first stall.

She fills that pail with creamy milk

and catches your eye the way she's built.

Mama's been in the string many lactations past;

I'm not her first calf, nor likely her last.

I have some sisters too, you see,

The Breeder calls us his "cow family".

When I was born he was a bit upset,

He much prefers her heifers to get;

Little bull babies, as in Moses' day

Rarely live to eat much hay.

A Great Pharaoh in Beltsville has decreed

"Only one (top PTI) sire at a time we need"

an hereditary title since his first bottle

from a papyrus styled "the Animal Model"

The best milkmaids become his concubines

while we must mate the lesser valued hides,

as no tainted blood is attributed to royalty

and no quarter given for our own virility.

The "system's" sins get blamed on me

as a faceless, no-name "Barnyard Barney"

in common with others of humble birth,

denying my pedigree its matings' worth.

But my Breeder knows from whence I came

and granted me the individuality of a name;

He knows I'm too young to take the blame

for seeds sown from others' fleeting fame,

Like crooked legs and pendulous breasts --

like declining butterfat and protein tests --

Lower fertility and higher culling rates --

Lack of outcross for inbred mates.

He gave me a sublime reason to be:

"Preserve your Mother's genes for me,

Make your heifers like her, less like the rest

who mature too soon and leave too fast".

This is a Breeding bull's ultimate test

more than "PTA's" and other guesstimates;

Selecting single traits can lead to penury

but Brood cow Longevity breeds prosperity!