Dawn Barber: Cow Band

The cows are walking slowly
With their tails moving side to side
There is no rush
They hold their heads up with pride
They are the cow band
And what a beautiful sight they are
They reach into all of our hearts
Carnival is coming again
And what a gift that is
Bringing sunshine and joy to everyone.

Glory Sengo: Cow Band

Cow band is you greet to cows
in a cow band festival Carnival
Outside in Newham in Wythe Road
Walking down the street dancing
Dancing with the cow band
Wythe Road past Drew Primary School
Passed the Tate Project
And the sun was playing outside
Of the nursery rhymes
While I was dancing with the cow band.

Robert Punton: Cow Band 1

The cow is special, the cow is sacred, cow is divine,
I band with my cow, want to join their herd,
ensure that they never get hurt, or distort
Which is why I turned vegetarian,
Choose not to eat their flesh or drink their milk
For me cow should be allowed to roam the pastures with pleasure,
Not farmed for human consumption or pleasure
Which is why I am happy to band with the cow
Band with the cow to ban the farming of the cow.

Robert Punton: Cow Band 2

When I hear the cow bell chime at dawn, I am filled with joy
Like being called to celebrate their being, join in their joy
At this time of year especially, as this is Carnival season.
Not that we need a reason to praise man and beast
coming together in harmony,
In praise of the glory of the natural order of the world
So, let us sing, dance, and make merry, until the cows come home
For that way lies the best future for us all.

Zillah Bridget Boswell-Coleman: The Cowbell

The cowbell rang a year ago, at Gatwick, at Gatwick.
When I got the email the carnival began, and is still ringing.

I am happy. I was always happy, happy as the huge smile with teeth
bearing from end to end, no food stuck, only lip smiling, giant smile,
happily.

The cowbell rings, rings like Cathedral bells before mass, before the
wedding of mines in the night sky, following the floats and the giant
teeth to teeth.

Happy.

One year ago I began this cowbell happiness, and Carnival unleashed
my spirit, formally bound by late night phone calls that kept me awake.

Now refreshed, the great shower of water down on Baran Parks in
London town.

I follow the dances and bright colours, unleashed from their chores and mocking their employers. I follow and dance, my due respect to the great Carnival smile that started one year ago.

You were there, but absent from the Carnival, not, not unleashed from necessity.

The great happiness began when I stopped waiting, and I just danced.

The procession went through Hyde Park, mostly the perimeter, and I saw my other self standing, waiting with Hugo for the 139. But here I was, holding each side of my Carnival smile and swaying to the varied June, varied cowbells, Bow Bells, that herald in my dance, my following, bells that ring for you, Father.

One year on from the emails, bells somewhere, despite the ridiculousness of balancing items on the self checkout, each chime holding up our smiles, not only while we spread our lips wide, from each corner of this city, this country, this globe, to dance and shake and follow the King and Queen in rags behind masks.

We smile behind memories of hundreds of years of waiting, were freedom behind sixty years of awaiting to dance just like this.
And, and, and—

bang,
bang,
bang.

Cloudless, my Carnival sky will scorch softly on my moonless night, and deep tones of more cowbells that you, Father, will also hear somewhere in your dreams, when your memory takes me to my procession.

Zillah Bridget Boswell-Coleman: Kitchen Cowbells

Cowbell rang,
not Switzerland, not Tobago,
but right here, right now,
in my kitchen,
where I danced and danced,
barefoot and smiling,
head thrown back in wild abandon,
silent cowbells chiming,
banging,
ringing,
smiling,
thundering
from tooth to tooth,
each end of my smile,
my kitchen,
my life,
my day.
Limits enlivened,
limbs enlivened,
yet exhausted from the dance,
dodging the table around the room
in small circles,
over and over,
for days and days,
ringing and chiming
the cowbells of different tones,
which continued after I sat
and rested,
until, in the heatwave,
the door opened.
I forgot
number 100,
number 101
and 102.
I still danced,
and droplets of little
masked, smiling faces
looked back at me.
Once flung onto the floor,
they became little people
and danced,
and we held hands
forever.

This is not the Endo: Daisy won’t do it

Daisy and the herd are munching away
When the farmer announces, “I have something to say.”
Next to him is a man in a corporate suit
With a clip board, and those fancy welly boots

“This man here would like to ask for a volunteer”
You know the drill girls, it is that time of year”
The man spoke, “We need someone to jump over the moon
to come in just before the dish and the spoon”
Daisy sidled up to the man and asked,

“why do you make us do this
every year?
The reason for doing so has never been quite clear”
The man looked down his nose at her with suspicion
“Well, because at this point it is tradition!”

Daisy scoffed, “Tradition be damned, I’m not jumping over the moon
not for anyone, especially not some corporate goon”
As one the herd turned and started to move away
and Daisy announced, “There will be no moon jumping, not today”

Robert Punton: Happy Cow 1

I am always joyous to see a happy cow
For happy cows mean the herd is being properly looked after
That the farmers cares about his herd, is taking care of his livestock,
If I hear of cows being harmed, I get outraged,
I want to run amok with a pitchfork over the farmland
If the cows are happy, I will happily sing until the cows come home.

Robert Punton: Happy Cow 2

The cow stands in the field, their field, mooing at the moon
He wonders why she is so happy, she just knows that she is
Strolling around the field enjoying her day the only time she is bothered
When the farmer takes her in to be milked, even that is a relief
It is no fun having your udders under pressure full of milk
That is the only time she must move at human speed,
Human time is so hectic, how do humans manage,
why are they always in such a rush,
She prefers cows pace life should not be a race
Take your time eat the grass smell the flowers, be at one with nature
You are part of nature, nature is part of you, that is the natural way
She has in the past heard her herd referred to as mad cows,
Well, if this is madness then bring it on
She is also a happy cow because she is a dairy cow not a cattle cow
Thank the Gods.

Julie Newman: The Happiest Cow

to chewing.

Julie Newman: The Cow’s Happy Place

The cow woke up.
The birds were singing
their cheerful welcomes to the day.

She looked around.
The sun was just beginning
to show over the mountains.

The fields were no longer dark,
and dew caught the early light
on grass and hedges.

Then she noticed
something had happened overnight.

There was a smell
she didn’t recognise.

The cow stood quietly
and took a long sniff.

The smell caught her nose
and made it twitch.

As she wondered
where it had come from,
she noticed clouds
sitting on top of the hills.

Not like the clouds
that usually brought her rain.

These were heavy.
Dark.

The other cows began
to move towards each other,
restless in this strange new world.

The farmer paused
as she dropped fresh hay
at the side of the field.

The trough was filled
with fresh water.

Then, turning to the cows,
she said,

“Don’t be frightened.

The smell is smoke
blowing over us from miles away.

We are safe.

But we need to share our fields
with the rabbits and birds
who might need somewhere safe to be.”

As the day progressed,
the cows found their own patches of grass
and settled for the day.

A flock of seagulls
was joined by curlews.

They pottered happily around,
enjoying the pickings in the field.

Some rabbits poked their heads
out from the hedges,
paused,
then quietly sat down
to eat their fill of grass.

The cow stood
and looked around.

The birds were safe.
The rabbits were safe.
The cows were safe.

She took another long breath.

This is my happy place,
she thought.

Glory Sengo: Cows

Cows resting
Moving slowly as
A pigeon pecking at the floor
A car crashed into the cow
It was an accident
The cows drink milk.

Eve Smith: Cow Characters

Clip Clop Clip Clop
I love eating grass it is my favourite thing to eat
I wonder who else I am going to meet
other cows in the field
Happy and full of joy
Which is wonderful to see
cows take their when eating as it is their favourite treat
Clip clop clip clop that is the sound and the way cows move their feet.

This is not the Endo: If I was a cow

If I was a cow, someday, somehow
I would drive a snowplough
There would be lots of raised eyebrows
And cats saying “meow”
And people wondering how
But there would be raptus applause for the mighty cow
Driving around in her magnificent snowplough.

This is not the Endo: Things I bet you didn’t know about cows

1. They have an incredible sense of hearing
So loud noises can send them careening
2. When they are grazing they can see a full 360 degrees
Everything from their friends to the grass, to their own knees
3. They can smell something from over 8 kilometres away
So they know if you have haven’t a wash that day
4. They are very curious and love messing around,
And will play with footballs on the ground
5. When cows are happy their moos are a lower pitch
Believe me its true this isn’t some AI glitch!

Glory Sengo: Cow Characters

[Sings] Old MacDonald had a farm
Ee, i, ee, i, o
And on his farm he had a cow
Ee, i, ee, i, o
With a moo-moo there and a moo-moo there
Here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo-moo
Old MacDonald had a farm
Ee, i, ee, i, o.

Glory Sengo: Cow Charcters

[Sings] Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The fish lar dee dar
The fish bar dee dar
The fish run away with the spoon.
Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The fish lar dee dar
The fish lar dee dar
The fish run away with the spoon.
And the fish ran away with the spoon.
Ruff ruff!

Dawn Barber: Cow Characters

Cows cannot talk
But they can walk
Cows can move their heads
From side to side
And nibble on grass with pride
They can lay down when they are tired
And feel the breeze upon their face
But they cannot line up for a race
But they have so much Character
They are the cows we love with all our hearts.

Dwain Bryan: Cow Characters

There were two cows
One that mooed
And one that chewed
The one cow that mooed
The farmer loved the most
And its body was a beautiful coat
Black and white
That’s the way it looked
The cow that chewed
Was as greedy as hell
And used to get lost on
Peoples ground
He eats the rubbish out of peoples bins
And as far as the farmer was concerned
It was a sin
The cow that mooed you could hear it all around
And people knew that exact cow sound
The cow that chews spits out what he doesn’t like
And always has a restful night.

Zillah Bosworth Coleman: Red Cape

Red cape, rushing,
picador to guide,
leather whip.

Not, no trouble for me.

I am bull.

I see red,
or I am mad,
or I am mad cow.

Take your pick.

You may laugh.
You may scream in delight.

But I charge,
dusky tan,
real or imaginary,
horns.

My fiberglass mask,
my fiberglass mask
covers a real set of teeth.

Ready for Carnival.

Zillah Bosworth Coleman: It’s Wednesday and time to eat grass.

My board, my body, of course brown burlap sacks,
once clad in dried plantain leaves
and bound by frayed hemp ropes,
rests.

I charged. I was a mad cow,
circling the streets.
Someone said,
“I am sorry I offended you,”
in a place of sunshine,
golden sands and carnival.

And only then did I realise
I was mad cow.
How did I get here?
Did I want to be scary mad cow?

Talk to me softly, put my
pat my nose or I may buy it,
placate me to stop the chaos.

Mad cow woke up on Tuesday.

Yesterday I had another strategy.
I am fancy, fancy cow.
I strut,

heavy in my velvet.

I read and sit, with my hooves on the desk.
I drink tea,

surrounded by twisted braiding,
metallic sequence,

with the knowledge of my knowledge of Spain
and other cow-like academic accolades.

Offers to be a cow producer in turn,
invites to cow parties,

heavy iron bells still tolling
my importance. Finally,

I stand in the forum
of cow seriousness.

Braided leather whips line up,
unemployed by incapacitated masters,
now with other fish to fry.

No cow to mock, no carnival dance
to watch me run.

Bored, grassy eating, I rest now.

Eve Smith: A Brown/Gold cow in my Kitchen

As I opened my eyes from having a nice restful sleep
I woke up
And went to my kitchen
I looked outside the window and in my kitchen
I was dancing around and looking around
I saw some brown and gold cows in my garden
Like I had never seen before.

Glory Sengo: Cows in the kitchen

[Sings]
Cows in the kitchen
Moo
Moo
Moo
Cows in the kitchen
Moo
Moo
Moo
Cows in the kitchen
Moo
Moo
Moo
What shall we do Tom Farmer?

Dawn Barber: Cows in the kitchen

The cows in the kitchen go moo
But they won’t be doing any cleaning for you
They are running out of space
touching each other in the face
The are not worried about time
Even if the clock makes a chime
These cows are getting ready for
Carnival time each year
They know its coming
But these cows
won’t be doing any drumming
Just a moooo.

Pippa Marshall: Kitchen Cows

The cows come clattering in,
certain of shelter. There are
no farms here anymore,
so I don’t know where
they have walked from,
or if this is the last stop.
They freeze for a moment
in front of the fridge,
blinking limpid eyes
fringed with perfect lashes.
One turns and sees herself
reflected in the glass of the oven door.
‘Don’t worry,’
I say, unsure
if I’m trying to reassure her
or myself. After an awkward
pause, they go to play
in the garden, where there is space
to chase around the trees.

This is not the Endo: Cow Band in the Kitchen

Jabari came down to the kitchen one day
To find a cow band just beginning to play
His Dad with a newspaper like another day
Looked at Jabari “well what do you want me to say?
This is how you know carnival is on the way”
As Jabari munched his morning meal
He enjoyed the music, the carnival feel
His fingers tapping in time with the beat
He thought it was pretty neat –
That Jabari could listen to a cow band right here in his home
And how kitchen carnival helped him to feel less alone.

This is not the Endo: Cows in the Kitchen

There are cows in the kitchen and I don’t know what to do
It didn’t work, politely saying shoo!
And now the butter Is full of hoof prints
And someone ate the vegetarian mince
The chopping board is missing a chunk
And on the floor, some unidentified gunk
The cows are eating me out of house and home
“Please bovines fine somewhere else to roam!”
One cow how cheesy wotsits eyebrows
And when they opened the freezer, I heard a “Wow”
Another cow is trying to make pasta and call it moo-ceroni
And someone has definitely licked the peperoni
It really is becoming quite a squeeze
There isn’t room for even a cow to sneeze
So, I am asking you pretty please
Could all the cows in the kitchen please leave!

Robert Punton: Cows in the Kitchen

There are cows in this kitchen cooking up a storm
There are cows in this kitchen making the home feel so warm
There are cows in this kitchen making the home feel so welcoming
This kitchen is diary free, this kitchen is meat free,
For that is the healthiest way to be, only option in today’s world
You may be thinking these are crazy cows, even mad cows,
Let me tell you with honesty these are far from crazy or mad cows
For these cows are showing us the future,
A way in which humans, animals, and plants, can live in harmony,
Side by side for the good of everyone and everything
For the benefit off the planet, this way we all have a bright future
We all have a future full stop,
If we refuse to take these cows lead, we will head into extinction.

Zillah Bosworth Coleman: Cow in the kitchen

1 a.m.
No sign of the cow.

1:30 a.m.
Still waiting, went to sleep.

Around 3:30,
woke up.

Around 4:30 a.m.
went into the kitchen.

There it was,
a cow in the kitchen.

Cautiously,
I opened the door.

It was smiling.

Au naturel,
behaving as if the kitchen was a field.

My brown wood-effect lino,
which has lasted 12 years with extra care,
blurred into a green field.

The table itself now a large stone,
that this athletic cow could sit as cows do,
legs tucked under,
head perfectly poised chewing,
ears alert,
large brown eyes fixed on the door,
just looking.

Okay, there’s a cow in the kitchen.

It’s carnival,
summer 2026.

Expect the unexpected.

So what did I do?

Well, I just sat down with it,
enjoyed the moment,
asked a few questions.

“Are you waiting for the sunrise?”

“Yes.”

The cow just carried on looking.

Correction

The cow just carried on doing what cows do.

No big conversation.

Then it moved.

When the herd moves, it moves.

Who said that?

The cow turned over.

No, that’s right.

It sprawled out,
almost human,
lying on its belly,
cow legs sticking out
to block the pathway to the bathroom,
front legs pushed forward,
laughing.

Cow was happy,
could not be disturbed by pests or such like,
suspended in the kitchen air,
laughing and joking to cow friends.

Oh my God,
the cow had a phone.

It had borrowed my charger.

So what did I do?

I just sat and watched
and enjoyed the moment.

“It’s dawn,” I said.

The cow paused and said,
“I know.”

That was it.

Carried on muttering
and making mooing words
and mooing grunts
that had a distinct vocabulary.

So what did I do?

Dawn had broken,
sunrise would be soon.

However, tired,
I went back to bed.

Good night, cow.