The Bull In The Field

There was a bull in the field, big and brownred
With big soft eyes and a brass ring in his nose.
He liked to be led around now and again even
Although the circumference was familiar and the
White fence posts he knew off by heart.

People came from miles around to see such a 
Fine specimen of bullhood, and his owner would
Run a rope through his ring, allow the children
To lead him.  Generally speaking the bull was
Good-humoured, took pleasure in just standing
Looking at the sky, the clouds, the trees that were 
His immediate surroundings.  It was enough,  he was happy.
His big brown eyes were benevolent as they
Tried to decipher the world they saw, sending slow, simple
Messages to his big brown head, causing cogitations to
Last for days sometimes so I heard.

He liked nothing better than to follow instructions, 
Accepted all gifts given to him as nothing less than his due,
And his owner always told him what to do, where to go,
And how to behave towards visitors.  But one day 
His owner died and a new one took over.  His troubles began bigtime.  
The new one expected him to do his own thinking, he had to
Decide for himself which children he wanted to lead him around,
Come to his own conclusions about all that he saw.  What wa worse,
He had to choose his own cows to mount, and altogether
He felt his world had turned frantic and demanding.  
He no longer enjoyed looking at everything because he had to
Deduce what it meant, had to work out how his own bull-life
Fitted into the overall scheme of things.  In short
He was expected to have ambitions and it was no longer
Enough to be merely led by the nose.  Worse,
He was told it wasn't polite to accept gifts if one couldn't reciprocate
But he didn't earn enough from his rides to be able to do that.

He thought about this a lot.  Admittedly it took him some
Time to come to his conclusions, after an enormous amount 
Of deliberation, but reach a decision he did.  It was all just too much.  
He wanted his old life back, the correct ratio of comfort
To effort.  His big brown eyes turned hard and he turned
His benevolence off.  His manner became cold, withdrawn,
And he no longer tolerated visitors.  Eventually his owner heard 
What was going on and came to ask him what was wrong.  
That was the very last straw.  He kicked up his hindlegs,
kicked her down, kicked her well-into-the-ground.
That was a job well done, he felt, and long overdue.   
It put a stop to her demands, her expectations, and he didn't 
Even bother to look round as he ambled off.

Well, no-one came to see him after that, for word got round.
Still, he went back to dawdling and looking at clouds, was
Happy as larry doing nothing, and being nothing more and
Nothing less than just another bull in a field.  It was enough.
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