Milk used to be so simple
At night and each morning too
With a bucket and stool and a nice quiet old cow
It was really so simple to do

With mud splattered boots and milk splattered strides
You would wander off down to the shed
The cow would be waiting, she knew what was what
Stand quietly and she would be fed

With her head in the bail and her tail on the hook
She stood there contentedly chewing
With your arse on the stool and your head near her flank
While outside some cattle are mooing

The bucket held firmly between your two knees
With two hands you started off squirting
Squirt with left hand then right hand and back to the left
And a kick in the shins if you’re hurting

The milk it just flowed, the rhythm was right
A musician could not do as well
The froth it built up as the milk level rose
A nectar for Gods you could tell

Well, time has moved on and the pictures changed
The milk now has to be treated
Sterilised, vaporised, pasteurised too
It’s buggarised as it is heated

And now with the milk, there is so many kinds
I find it all very confusing
When I go to the store to get us some milk
Oh hell! What kind are we using?

With Skinny, Physical, Skim and of course Rev
That is just to mention a few
How the hell does a cow know just what to give?
It is there to confuse me and you