Terry D. Sutherland

MILDRED

Mildred was a milking maid
Her grip was one of steel
Young suitors always stayed
For milk with every meal

None would ever shake her hand
They always parted with a kiss
No handshake grip could they stand
From this steel gripped little miss

Mildred never quite understood
The real purpose of their kiss
She thought just a handshake would
Be quite adequate for marital bliss

Then she met a dairy man
Who had milked all of his own
When she clasped hands with Stan
They both heard crunching bone

They have married happily
They have a dairy of their own
Mildred and Stan learned rapidly
To kiss and leave the hands alone