Little Daisy by her desk
God blessed her plan grotesque

To pen a poem of a new kind
A doggerel to be destined

Here begins her legendary ride
Her little pride to poetic deride

“In the lone countryside
Where umpteen seasons ride

Grasses grow foot long,
Breezes sing swan song

Dear Daisy, under a tree
One upon another her tootsie

Watches the calves suckle and cows graze
Setting her sublime nosiness ablaze

How milk gets into the udders of cows
One more “how” to her list of “hows”

With the flair of her own and aid of a wise old milkmaid
She at last untangles the secret of how milk gets made

Cow is a shemale of the bull animal clan
To have calves for bull and milk for calves, is her only plan

First comes the baby calf and then the milk in udder
Both complement each other, just like ship to rudder

Mama cow, how she begets a baby, is one agonizing tale
It comprises compromises to get expectant with the grail

Nine months ain’t so short although, to bear extended distress
Pain of labor, poor mama, to end it all, a baby bless

Milk soon follows for the baby, see the miracle of God
Makes grub ready just in time, against many an odd

Daisy wonders why folks pilfer, milk from mama’s sweetie
But mama’s kind, doesn’t mind, to share her benign bounty”

Little Daisy, now content, with the answer to her question
She looks forward to more questions to answer in next session