The cattle are grazing,Their heads never raising;There are forty feeding like one!

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,One after one; the sound of rain, and beesMurmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lieSleepless!

There's not a nook within this solemn pass/ But were an apt confessional for one/ Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,/ That life is but a tale of morning grass/ Withered at eve.

We made more money feeding molasses, urea, and corn cobs to cattle than we ever did feeding dent corn.

Forty-one just wanted to come by and say hello. He was really great, and our staff really appreciated it.