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Two of my favorite things
Cheese and poetry! Combined, if not at all well, in the "Oxford Cheese Ode" by James McIntyre.
Oxford Cheese Ode
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oxford-cheese-ode/
The ancient poets ne'er did dream
That Canada was land of cream,
They ne'er imagined it could flow
In this cold land of ice and snow,
Where everything did solid freeze,
They ne'er hoped or looked for cheese.
A few years since our Oxford farms
Were nearly robbed of all their charms,
O'er cropped the weary land grew poor
And nearly barren as a moor,
But now the owners live at ease
Rejoicing in their crop of cheese.
And since they justly treat the soil,
Are well rewarded for their toil,
The land enriched by goodly cows,
Yie'ds plenty now to fill their mows,
Both wheat and barley, oats and peas
But still their greatest boast is cheese.
And you must careful fill your mows
With good provender for your cows,
And in the winter keep them warm,
Protect them safe all time from harm,
For cows do dearly love their ease,
Which doth insure best grade of cheese.
To us it is a glorious theme
To sing of milk and curds and cream,
Were it collected it could float
On its bosom, small steam boat,
Cows numerous as swarm of bees
Are milked in Oxford to make cheese.
James McIntyre
(Also, I wanted to thank everyone who replied to my entries yesterday. *beams at you all* I'll reply to comments soon.)
Oxford Cheese Ode
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oxford-cheese-ode/
The ancient poets ne'er did dream
That Canada was land of cream,
They ne'er imagined it could flow
In this cold land of ice and snow,
Where everything did solid freeze,
They ne'er hoped or looked for cheese.
A few years since our Oxford farms
Were nearly robbed of all their charms,
O'er cropped the weary land grew poor
And nearly barren as a moor,
But now the owners live at ease
Rejoicing in their crop of cheese.
And since they justly treat the soil,
Are well rewarded for their toil,
The land enriched by goodly cows,
Yie'ds plenty now to fill their mows,
Both wheat and barley, oats and peas
But still their greatest boast is cheese.
And you must careful fill your mows
With good provender for your cows,
And in the winter keep them warm,
Protect them safe all time from harm,
For cows do dearly love their ease,
Which doth insure best grade of cheese.
To us it is a glorious theme
To sing of milk and curds and cream,
Were it collected it could float
On its bosom, small steam boat,
Cows numerous as swarm of bees
Are milked in Oxford to make cheese.
James McIntyre
(Also, I wanted to thank everyone who replied to my entries yesterday. *beams at you all* I'll reply to comments soon.)
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("Mows" to rhyme with "cows"?!?)
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mow, n.1:
Now chiefly regional.
Brit. /maʊ/, U.S. /maʊ/ [which means "rhymes with 'cow'"]
1. a. A stack of hay, corn, beans, peas, etc.; esp. a heap of grain or hay in a barn. Also: the quantity of grain or hay stacked in one bay of a barn. Cf. HAY-MOW n.
b. A place in a barn where hay or corn is heaped up.
†2. More generally: a heap or pile of anything; a heap of earth, a mound, a hillock; (Sc.) a stack of peats. Obs. rare.
--Dr. Whom, Consulting Linguist, Grammarian, Orthoëpist, and Philological Busybody
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Thank you!
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