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Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream.

quote by W.S. Gilbert
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cream

This is it
Its time for u to go to the wire
U will hit
Cuz u got the burnin desire
Its your time (time)
U got the horn so why dont u blow it
U are fine (fine)
Ure filthy cute and baby u know it
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Ure so good
Baby there aint nobody better (aint nobody better)
So u should
Never, ever go by the letter (never ever)
Ure so cool (cool)
Everything u do is success
Make the rules (rules)
Then break them all cuz u are the best
Yes u are
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop
Look up in the air, its your guitar
Do your dance
Why should u wait any longer?
Take a chance
It could only make u stronger
Its your time (its your time)
U got the horn so why dont u blow it (go on and blow it)
Ure so fine (ure so fine)
Ure filthy cute and baby u know it (u know it)
Come on
Cream
Get on top
Cream
U will cop
Cream
Dont u ever stop
Cream

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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635 Milk The Elixir Of Life

MILK - One of God's preciuos gifts
For all who seek to live
Of all the food that passes lips
This has the most to give.
And when we from our Mothers feed
Her milk provides our every need.

The milk of cows and goats and sheep
Sustains us in our later life
An elixir before we sleep
It calms our nerves and eases strife
What is the secret of this stuff
Milkaholics just can't get enuff.

We know that milk is mostly water
There's almost eighty eight percent
There's protein - fat and carbohydrate
And calcium to give bones strength.
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day
It sure will help you on your way.

Full-fat milk makes ladies fertile
And it tastes much nicer too
Leave the skimmed milk for the slimmers
While you enjoy your creamy goo.
Jersey Milk has FIVE POINT THREE
Fresian much less - Oh dear me! ! !

Milk is a rich source of vitamins
A and D and E and K
Lactose gives our milk its sweetness
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day.
Drinking milk instead of coffee
Keeps you calm and much less stroppy.

Natural milk is prone to curdle
So we have to Pasteurise
Killing all the dee-dum-durdle
Homogenise and Sterilise.
When next in't Country - it's my vow
To drink my milk straight from the cow! ! !

Milk provides a range of products
Cream - Butter - Cheese and Yoghurt too
Without which life would be much poorer
No Camembert or Danish Blue.
When our palates we would please
We judge a country by its Cheese.
I'll sing the praise of English Cheeses
Cheddar - Cheshire - Wenslydale

[...] Read more

poem by John Knight
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Dairy Ode

Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.

The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.

Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.

Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.

Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.

Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.

And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.

Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.

Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How to utilize it in the dairy.

The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.

[...] Read more

poem by James McIntyre
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Ice Cream Man

(dedicate one to the ladies...)
Now summertimes here babe, need somethin to keep you cool
Ah now summertimes here babe, need somethin to keep you cool
Better look out now though, daves got somethin for you
Tell ya what it is
Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
Oh my my, Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy
Hold on a second baby
I got good lemonade, ah, dixie cups
All flavors and push ups too
Im your ice cream man, baby, stop me when Im passin by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy
Hold on, one more
Well, Im usually passin by just about eleven oclock
Uh huh, I never stop, Im usually passin by, just around eleven oclock
And if you let me cool you one time, youll be my regular stop
All right boys
I got good lemonade, ah, dixie cups
All flavors and push ups too
Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy
Yes Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
They say all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy
Ah, one time
Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
Im your ice cream man, stop me when Im passin by
They say all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy
One time, boys
Im your ice cream man
Im your ice cream man
B-b-b-b-b-b-b-baby
Ah my, my, my
All my flavors are guaranteed to satis-uh-fy
Ow

song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Milkmaid's Song

Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn,
Turn by the dale, my Harry!
Fill pail, fill pail,
He has turned by the dale,
And there by the stile waits Harry.
Fill, fill,
Fill, pail, fill,
For there by the stile waits Harry!
The world may go round, the world may stand still
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh!
O, if we two
Stood down there now by the water,
I know who'd carry me over the ford
As brave as a soldier, as proud as a lord,
Though I don't live over the water.
Wheugh, wheugh! he's whistling through,
He's whistling 'The Farmer's Daugher.'
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
He shall not take the road to the town,
For I'll meet him beyond the water.
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
And send me to my Harry.
The folk o' towns
May have silken gowns,
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh! he has whistled through
He has whistled through the water.
Fill, fill, with a will, a will,
For he's whistled through the water,
And he's whistling down
The way to the town,
And it's not 'The Farmer's Daughter!'
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
The sun sets over the water,
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
I'm too late for my Harry!
And, O, if he goes a-soldiering,
The cows they may low, the bells they may ring,
But I'll neither milk nor marry,
Fill pail,
Neither milk nor marry.

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Underneath The Cream

Wait a minute...
Turn the, turn the phones up
Yeah...cool
Lookin' out the window of a big black limousine
Thinkin' bout your thighs
Wishin' I was somewhere in between
In one single motion
Deep inside your ocean
I just wanna be
Underneath the cream
Can't stop thinkin' about ya'...thighs
Somewhere in between
That's where I wanna be, that's where I wanna be
Underneath the cream
You and I
Somewhere in between
Your thighs
Cell phone, passport
All your inhibitions
Spread out on the floor
(Deep inside)
Deep inside your life-givin' ocean, sugarpop
Rests my consciousness just a little more
Is what I wanna do, babe
So talk to me
Don't get me started
Come into this wet dream-eternal
Pretend I am you and teach me without shame
Take my hand, put it in the place
That turned you out the most last time you came
Useless deliberation, the beast of frustration
Trust me, I know
Somewhere in between seven days and nights
That's how far, baby
You wanna go?
Underneath the cream
Can't stop thinkin about ya'...thighs
Somewhere in between
That's where I wanna be, that's where I wanna be
Underneath the cream
You and I
Somewhere in between
Your thighs, your thighs
Somewhere in between this wet dream, it seems
I never shoulda let you go
Now that you've returned I yearn to learn
All the feelings you never dared to show
Come into this wet dream eternal
Pretend I am you and let's, Oh
Somewhere in between, I dream/Underneath the cream

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Old Spense

You've seen his place, I reckon, friend?
'Twas rather kind ov tryin'.
The way he made the dollars fly,
Such gimcrack things a-buyin'--
He spent a big share ov a fortin'
On pesky things that went a snortin'

And hollerin' over all the fields,
And ploughin' ev'ry furrow;
We sort ov felt discouraged, for
Spense wusn't one to borrow;
An' wus--the old chap wouldn't lend
A cent's wuth to his dearest friend!

Good land! the neighbours seed to wunst
Them snortin', screamin' notions
Wus jest enough tew drown the yearth
In wrath, like roarin' oceans,
'An' guess'd the Lord would give old Spense
Blue fits for fightin' Pruvidence!'

Spense wus thet harden'd; when the yearth
Wus like a bak'd pertater;
Instead ov prayin' hard fur rain,
He fetched an irrigator.
'The wicked flourish like green bays!'
Sed folks for comfort in them days.

I will allow his place was grand
With not a stump upon it,
The loam wus jest as rich an' black
Es school ma'am's velvet bunnit;
But tho' he flourish'd, folks all know'd
What spiritooal ear-marks he show'd.

Spense had a notion in his mind,
Ef some poor human grapples
With pesky worms thet eat his vines,
An' spile his summer apples,
It don't seem enny kind ov sense
Tew call that 'cheekin' Pruvidence!'

An' ef a chap on Sabbath sees
A thunder cloud a-strayin'
Above his fresh cut clover an'
Gets down tew steddy prayin',
An' tries tew shew the Lord's mistake,
Instead ov tacklin' tew his rake,

He ain't got enny kind ov show

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Miss A La Cream

Waiting is worth the while
Miss A La cream, a la cream
The lady of magnificent style
The woman of many a mans dream

A natural born striker
Every man in turn likes her
The queue up in flashy little cars
It doesn’t get them really any far

Miss A La cream, a la cream
The lady of posh self-esteem
At day, she’s in the sauna wrapped in towels
At day she’s at the hairdressers draped in jewels
At night, she can be found at many a brothel
But don’t you ever ask, what is a vowel?
But don’t you ever attempt to make her to spell

Natural yellow, gold and blonde
With an exquisite scent from beyond
A La cream, a la cream
She can pander a whole football team
Up in the mountains or down by the streams

When she walks the street with her heels
Mouths open, hearts relentlessly dream
Notwithstanding her heart is stronger than steel
That’s why she is Miss A la cream, A la cream

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Upwardly MobileBreasts

Upwardly mobile breasts
link together East and West,
occupying cyberspace
to tease, to please, as they unbrace -
spring feeding fantasy oppressed -
that gravity which, second-guessed,
would temper passions. These, apace,
grow, flow with honey, milk, chased chaste.

Man, mammal mammary obsessed,
manhandles, memory manifests
'I' level interest interface_
_sings [t]issues in both good, poor taste,
can't displace attention best
focused elsewhere, soul possessed
by magnet tandem ride, slim waist,

upwardly mobile, undepressed.
D stands for Double bubble laced,
succulence symetric spaced
to dot eyes until life’s digressed
by bridal bridle, dispossessed.

Upwardly mobile breasts -
down and out, or corset pressed,
pear or apple pair set pace.
Fancy free, corset compressed
holding out or, on request,
outstanding assets in life's quest.
'Eye...cons' which, since time, showcased,
imagination ever graced.

Man, mental midget, seems impressed
by mammoth mountains, curves which crest
from chest to rib-cage, touching base
with fancy's fables few detest.
Fun bags balloon 'bove Everest,
peak projections never rest,
[c]rush hour preoccupations taste
angst lest dream disintegrates.

Upwardly mobile breasts -
in the pink, admired with zest, -
swift soar above the commonplace,
'To wit' says one, 'To woo I'll case
the joint to free restraints! ' 'Obsessed! '
replies the other, 'feathered nest.'
Some, spread, taut drawn to taunt Time's haste,
lest silly cones should run to waste.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ice Cream Hair

My mom's hair is made of Chocolate Ice Cream.
My dad's hair is made of Mint Ice Cream.
My sister's hair is made of Vanilla Ice Cream.
My halve sister's hair is made of Strawberry Ice Cream.
My brother's hair is made of Coconut Ice Cream.
My halve brother's hair is made of Blue Berry Ice Cream.
My baby sister's hair is made of Banana Split Ice Cream.
What is my hair made out of?
All of the above,

and a hint of sprinkles; -) .

poem by Jasmine Aira
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Beating The Heat With Sweet Willows Creamery Ice Cream At The Fairie Festival For Me And My Friends

At the Fairie Festival
The sun beats down on many of us
from above
It's enjoying it's time in the sky of blue
As the minutes go by
The humidity of this day continues to
ratchet up
It may be the beginning of May
But it surely feels like Summer

The nature spirits that I'm friend with
We look for some way to cool off
My friends being a fairy, water nymph,
and goddess

Walking around the Fairie Festival
Water seems to be flying off the shelves
But ice cream from Sweet Willows Creamery
certainly isn't
And so, feeling like we are and considering
the situation
We make the best decision for ourselves

We stand in line for ice cream
Ice cream from Sweet Willows Creamery
We talk with each other and deal with the heat
and humidity the best we can
For the time being right now

Soon it's our turn
And we order and pay for 4 ice cream cones

I have the Fairy Dust Cotton Candy
My friend, the water nymph has Fairy Berry Banana
Strawberry Swirl
My friend, the fairy has Maraschino Cherry mixed with
Tollhouse Cookie Dough
My friend, the goddess has Strawfairy Toadstool

We enjoy our ice cream cones
Loving the flavors we picked
And we're sure that many others who'll get ice cream
will get a similar kick

As my friends and I walk along
Enjoying our ice cream cones
The Fairie Festival commences and continues on

poem by Justin Gildow
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Milkcow Calf Blues

(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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It IS Milk!

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'It is!
It IS milk! '

Great!
Now...
Let's move on to the meat and vegetables.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Cyclops

SILENUS:
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
And ere these limbs were overworn with age,
Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st
The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy side,
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear,
Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?
By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had devised
A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea
With all my children quaint in search of you,
And I myself stood on the beaked prow
And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys
Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose,
And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;
The one-eyed children of the Ocean God,
The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit,
On this wild shore, their solitary caves,
And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody,
We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks.
My sons indeed on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep,
But I remain to fill the water-casks,
Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering
Some impious and abominable meal
To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
With this great iron rake, so to receive
My absent master and his evening sheep
In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls?

CHORUS OF SATYRS:

STROPHE:
Where has he of race divine

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Cow-Juice Cure

The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June,
When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's saloon.
The frost was on the fodder an' the wind was growin' keen,
When Billy got to seein' snakes in Sullivan's shebeen.

Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup:
"Oh Billy, for the love of Mike, why don't ye sober up?
I've got the gorgus recipay, 'tis smooth an' slick as silk --
Jest quit yer strangle-holt on hooch, an' irrigate with milk.
Lackteeal flooid is the lubrication you require;
Yer nervus frame-up's like a bunch of snarled piano wire.
You want to get it coated up with addypose tishoo,
So's it will work elastic-like, an' milk's the dope for you."

Well, Billy was complyable, an' in a month it's strange,
That cow-juice seemed to oppyrate a most amazin' change.
"Call up the water-wagon, Dan, an' book my seat," sez he.
"'Tis mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "'twas just the same with
me."
They shanghaied little Tim O'Shane, they cached him safe away,
An' though he objurgated some, they "cured" him night an' day;
An' pretty soon there came the change amazin' to explain:
"I'll never take another drink," sez Timothy O'Shane.
They tried it out on Spike Muldoon, that toper of renown;
They put it over Grouch McGraw, the terror of the town.
They roped in "tanks" from far and near, an' every test was sure,
An' like a flame there ran the fame of Deep-hole's Cow-juice Cure.

"It's mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "I'm puzzled through and through;
It's only milk from Riley's ranch, no other milk will do."
An' it jest happened on that night with no predictive plan,
He left some milk from Riley's ranch a-settin' in a pan;
An' picture his amazement when he poured that milk next day --
There in the bottom of the pan a dozen "colours" lay.

"Well, what d'ye know 'bout that," sez Dan; "Gosh ding my dasted eyes,
We've been an' had the Gold Cure, Bill, an' none of us was wise.
The milk's free-millin' that's a cinch; there's colours everywhere.
Now, let us figger this thing out -- how does the dust git there?
`Gold from the grass-roots down', they say -- why, Bill! we've got it cold --
Them cows what nibbles up the grass, jest nibbles up the gold.
We're blasted, bloomin' millionaires; dissemble an' lie low:
We'll follow them gold-bearin' cows, an' prospect where they go."

An' so it came to pass, fer weeks them miners might be found
A-sneakin' round on Riley's ranch, an' snipin' at the ground;
Till even Riley stops an' stares, an' presently allows:
"Them boys appear to take a mighty interest in cows."
An' night an' day they shadowed each auriferous bovine,
An' panned the grass-roots on their trail, yet nivver gold they seen.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Superlative Story

Superlative Story

I Syntaxical Sequence

II Strange Stanza Succession Starts

III Scenario Synopsis

IV Sensuality, sense, sensibility,

V Substitute Spousal Suggestions

VI Seesaw Simplicity: Seraglio Simularities Spurned

VII Solution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I SYNTAXICAL SEQUENCE

Special scansion ‘S’ syllabic
specious solicisms scraps,
solo solving sounds strabismic,
syllogistic systole scraps.
Syllables spring, shuffle, scuttle,
skittle syntax, scintillate
syntonically sans snuffle, shuttle –
synonyms shake sides, spine straight.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
senses sweeps, song swifter swims,
succulent succession seeding
substitutions, surface skims.
Scrupulous semantics subtle
switchback spiral, summarize,
seek solutions smart, scrolled, supple,
solve set spectrum's smallish size.

Synonymous synchronising
sympathetic symphony
scores - Socratic symbolizing –
swivelling sonority.
Scansion salvo salvo scansion
strong succeeds, succeeding sends
successors streamlined sampling surging –
sanction seems so slight, scourge spends.

Systematic symbol spreading
'sses something sacred, seeks, -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Peaches Cream

Feat. fabolous
Oh yeah
Yeah
Fabolous
112
Peaches and cream
Know what I mean
[fabolous]
Ma
I cant get enough
Im a fiend for peaches
I done freaked everywhere from
Limousines to beaches
The kids well known by
Deans and teachers
Its that player who even
Scored in between the bleachers
Chicks used to be
Seam and speechless
Now they talk because the
X-5 got so many
Screens and features
Thats why I threw marines
On each-trice
Look its the f-a-b-o-l-o-u-s
[112]
Let me tell you
What I wanna do
Let me show you
That Im feelin you
Wanna sex wanna
Ride with you you
Wanna kiss wanna
Put my lips all over you
Cant get enough of you
Always taken of you
So sweet so very wet
So good girl
You make me sweat
Girl Im talkin bout
Peaches and cream
[chorus]
[112]
Peaches and cream
I need it cause you know
That Im a fiend
Gettin freaky in my
Bentley limousine
Its even better
When its with ice-cream

[...] Read more

song performed by 112
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Malted Milk

(by robert johnson)
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
Baby, youre just as welcome to my loving as the flowers is in may.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and Im talking all out my head.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Keep on stirring my malted milk, mama, until I change my mind.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and the hairs rising on my head.

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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2Oth WHO WBW Celebrations: Breast-milk is Still, the Very Best!

‘Breast-milk is best, ' most doctors surely vouch,
By working mothers or one sick on couch;
It gives the babe, the human warmth and touch!
Only the lazy moms would try to grouch!

The first secreted milk Colostrum's, good,
With nutrients, immune bodies - great food!
To give her baby this, all mothers should;
Turn weak if 'tis denied, the baby could.

The Almighty destined Eve bear children
With labour-pains, and raise them up even;
The suckling-reflex too comes from heaven;
Breast-milk is best - a fact, long back proven!

Contents are ideal for the child always;
Container's ready, hygienic all days;
Matching the baby's hunger, sucking pace,
Breast-milk has kept healthy, the human race!

Milk gently comes through nipple's holes like spray!
The mother burns more calories each day;
‘The lactose suits the baby', people say;
The uterus gets back to size this way!

No formula can replace breast-milk's place!
Breast-milk is clean, sterile in every case;
The baby's brain and gaze well-developed stays;
The habit builds a bond of love that pays!

Breast-feeding does not affect maiden's form;
'Tis natural for mothers, does no harm;
It keeps the baby snug, busy and warm;
Well breast-fed baby stays happy and calm!

‘For babies' sake, let mothers learn the craft;
Breast-feeding is an art that should be taught;
The mind and hormones play a magic role;
It helps mother-hood to achieve its goal! '

‘Understanding the past - Planning the future! '
Dedicated by the Dean, IRT PMC Perundurai, TN, India
To all mothers and would-be mothers, world-wide.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-8-12

poem by John Celes
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Hymn to the Dairymaids on Beacon Street

Sweetly solemn see them stand,
Spinning churns on either hand,
Neatly capped and aproned white
Airy fairy dairy sight.
Jersey priestesses they seem
Miracling milk to cream.
Cream solidifies to cheese
By Pasteural mysteries,
And they give, within their shrine,
Their communión in kine.
Incantations pure they mutter
O'er the golden minted butter
And (no layman hand can pen it)
See them gloat above their rennet.
By that hillside window pane
Rugged teamsters draw the rein.
Doff the battered hat and bow
To these acolytes of cow.
Genuflect, ye passersby!
Muse upon their ritual high-
Milk to cream, yea, cream to cheese
White lacteal mysteries!
Let adorers sing the word
Of the smoothly flowing curd.
Yea, we sing with bells and fife
This is the whey, this is the Life.

poem by Christopher Morley
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