It curdles milk
When making cheese
A spell gone wrong
Which could displease
The sanely soul
Whose fourth stomach
Lining
Supplements
One’s finer dining
The matriarchal destiny
Kidnapping counts
It seems to me
An ungodliness
A slippery slope
For all male calves
That feel the rope
The vegetarian
Solemnly
Wont eat the flesh
But can quietly
Finish a block of stilton cheese
And feel the weakness
In their knees
Rennin a death wish it appears
A farmyard tale
With extra tears
Bobby calves so solitary
Die a death so miserably
A constituent of rennet
We
See chymosin the gastric plea
Which witch could ever
Have flown a mile
Or sat crosslegged
Upon this stile