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Robert W Service - The Cow-Juice Cure
Work rating: Medium

The clover was in blossom, an` the year was at the June,
When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O`Flynn`s saloon.
The frost was on the fodder an` the wind was growin` keen,
When Billy got to seein` snakes in Sullivan`s shebeen.

Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup:
"Oh Billy, for the love of Mike, why don`t ye sober up?
I`ve got the gorgus recipay, `tis smooth an` slick as silk —
Jest quit yer strangle-holt on hooch, an` irrigate with milk.
Lackteeal flooid is the lubrication you require;
Yer nervus frame-up`s like a bunch of snarled piano wire.
You want to get it coated up with addypose tishoo,
So`s it will work elastic-like, an` milk`s the dope for you."

Well, Billy was complyable, an` in a month it`s strange,
That cow-juice seemed to oppyrate a most amazin` change.
"Call up the water-wagon, Dan, an` book my seat," sez he.
"`Tis mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "`twas just the same with
me."
They shanghaied little Tim O`Shane, they cached him safe away,
An` though he objurgated some, they "cured" him night an` day;
An` pretty soon there came the change amazin` to explain:
"I`ll never take another drink," sez Timothy O`Shane.
They tried it out on Spike Muldoon, that toper of renown;
They put it over Grouch McGraw, the terror of the town.
They roped in "tanks" from far and near, an` every test was sure,
An` like a flame there ran the fame of Deep-hole`s Cow-juice Cure.

"It`s mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "I`m puzzled through and through;
It`s only milk from Riley`s ranch, no other milk will do."
An` it jest happened on that night with no predictive plan,
He left some milk from Riley`s ranch a-settin` in a pan;
An` picture his amazement when he poured that milk next day —
There in the bottom of the pan a dozen "colours" lay.

"Well, what d`ye know `bout that," sez Dan; "Gosh ding my dasted eyes,
We`ve been an` had the Gold Cure, Bill, an` none of us was wise.
The milk`s free-millin` that`s a cinch; there`s colours everywhere.
Now, let us figger this thing out — how does the dust git there?
`Gold from the grass-roots down`, they say — why, Bill! we`ve got it cold —
Them cows what nibbles up the grass, jest nibbles up the gold.
We`re blasted, bloomin` millionaires; dissemble an` lie low:
We`ll follow them gold-bearin` cows, an` prospect where they go."

An` so it came to pass, fer weeks them miners might be found
A-sneakin` round on Riley`s ranch, an` snipin` at the ground;
Till even Riley stops an` stares, an` presently allows:
"Them boys appear to take a mighty interest in cows."
An` night an` day they shadowed each auriferous bovine,
An` panned the grass-roots on their trail, yet nivver gold they find.

An` all that season, secret-like, they worked an` nothin` found;
An` there was colours in the milk, but none was in the ground.
An` mighty desperate was they, an` down upon their luck,
When sudden, inspirationlike, the source of it they struck.
An` where d`ye think they traced it to? it grieves my heart to tell —
In the black sand at the bottom of that wicked milkman`s well.
Source
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