Mr. R. Kipling

In the old ten-acre pasture, Lookin' eastward toward a tree, There's a Purple Cow a-settin' And I know she thinks of me. For the wind is in the gum-tree, And the hay is in the mow, And the cow-bells are a-calling "Come and see a Purple Cow!"

But I am not going now, Not at present, anyhow, For I am not fond of purple, and I can't abide a cow; No, I shall not go to-day, Where the Purple Cattle play. But I think I'd rather see one Than to be one, anyhow.