While walking with my farmer friend
In Somerset county
My farmer friend looked up and said
“There’s a cow in that there tree.”

“A cow in a tree! Insanity!”
Was my shocked exclamation.
The farmer merely pointed.
(Good hand-eye coordination.)

Yes! It was true! There was indeed
A suspended bovine there.
Its hooves upraised, and on its face
A melancholy stare.

But how had it got there? Who would fling
A cow with such abandon?
And how could such a thing be done?
And how did it manage the landin’?

The farmer and I stood there
My jaw dropped like a brick.
(The farmer wasn’t so surprised –
They do odd things out in the sticks.)

But then out from behind a bush
Emerged a wild-eyed man.
With sticks in his hair, tears in his clothes
And blueprints in his hand.

“Aha! Success! My plans have worked!”
He roared, and danced with joy.
“What’s worked? What’ve you done?” I asked.
“My catapult, dear boy!”

“And now the getaway!” He leapt
Behind the bush again.
We heard a SPROING ! We saw him fly!
His funeral’s today at ten.