The noble bull once roamed the wood,

Breeding his cows and doing good.

His sons and daughters proud to say,

They had all come the natural way.

But now, alas, sad to relate,

In deep disgrace and humble state;

The bull is victim 'cross the nation

Of artificial 'semination.

He sees no cow, he rings no bell,

Mere instrument, his life is hell;

His ego's gone, in shame he walks,

He'd much prefer to be an ox..

But hold.' Let Bossy have her say,

The young technician comes her way;

She likes his looks, so free and guile,

His gentle touch, his friendly smile.

No bull to bellow, bawl and roar,

To crush her frail form to the floor;

Why be mauled as a block of wood;

When all she wants is motherhood.

Thus ponders bossy; What the plan.

Be it the bull or nice young man,

With plastic tube and rubber glove.

Her answer's prompt "To hell with love".