The advertisement claimed there’d be less stress upon the cow.
Clarence realized a need to purchase one right now.
The electric branding iron had a shiny three prong plug.
Clarence made it two prong with the sharp and quickest tug.
He set the branding iron aside. Tomorrow would be the day.
He grabbed a bowl of bread and milk then promptly hit the hay.
Five a.m. came early. My uncle shot right out of bed.
Then every barefoot hit the floor. No time for a sleepyhead.
But first, the cows were milked in record time that day.
The dry stock fed, the dog turned out and tossed the horse some hay.
Then every able body who was old enough to walk,
would set up tall for breakfast. You couldn’t hear from all the talk.
Baking powder biscuits with eggs gathered from the roost.
And the pig donated bacon for the extra needed boost.
With bellies full the cowboys moved the cows to a narrow pen.
Then, prodded to the squeeze chute, they’d meet Clarence and his men.
One cowboy squeezed down on the chute. The trapped cow could not move.
Clarence chose the cow’s left ribs and clipped hair to make it smooth.
Then Clarence placed the branding iron on the smooth and readied hair.
The hot iron left its permanence, not fancy just plain there.
All morning long the branding iron would leave its stamp to last.
Now the dinner bell rang out at 12 and not a minute past.
Fried chicken and homemade root beer was wolfed down by the crew.
Then back to work at 1 o’clock to finish up the few.
When plugging in the branding iron, the plug got flipped around.
So when Clarence started branding, the Holstein hit the ground.
For sure the cow was dead. She lay there on the squeeze-chute floor.
There was no explanation but they had to brand some more.
The Massey tractor pulled her out. You could say it saved the day.
The cow didn’t meet a bullet, but got slaughtered anyway.
The next in line moved to the chute. They prepped the cow’s left side.
When Clarence pressed the branding iron, she dropped her head and died.
The branding iron appeared to be the guilty one at hand.
And Clarence bore the guilt of the electric iron brand.
Then Clarence hollered “$@#& it! I changed the three prong to a two.”
Back then there weren’t a three prong box that he could plug into.
Clarence was a handyman but paid a hefty price.
One cow too many met her end, poor Clarence paid it twice.
