SOSP 2005 Song (aka The Butter Song)

Written in England

This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.
This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.

The cow could be from Jersey
Or from the Isle of Man;
The cow could be from the Lake Country
Where it lives with stiff élan;
The cow could be from Ely
Or from fair Cambridge too;
The cow could’ve been from Milton Keynes
Where it stood around in its own poo.

This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.
This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.

The grass that made this butter
Was chewed down into cud
By a cow named Bessie or Nessie or Nell
Descended from aristocratic blood.
But from whence comes this peerage?
But where pray did she chew?
I asked the maître d’ but he laughed at me
And on further pressing said Fuck you.

This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.
This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.

This butter was made
By the churning of a maid
Who was severely underpaid
In pence and lemonade,
Though long before she knew
How much milking she would do
The cow digested through
Her four stomachs

A chunky clot of grass
In a fibrous sticky mass
That dissolved into a gas
That she passed out through her ass.
But the nutrients remained
Due to hormones in her brain;
Down they traveled in a train
To her udder,

Which filled up to the brim
With a liquid form of vim
Congealed by the maid
Into lipids on parade,
A party on the tongue
And also in the tum,
The very taste of yum
For which the angels hum
Hosannas and succumb –
But where’d the cow come from?

This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.
This butter was made in the udder of a cow but we don’t know where the cow was from.
It’s a conundrum!



Eddie Kohler