Lyrics

Fat and docile, big and dumb  
They look so stupid, they aren't much fun  
Cows aren't fun  
  
They eat to grow, grow to die  
Die to be et at the hamburger fry  
Cows well done  
  
Nobody thunk it, nobody knew  
No one imagined the great cow guru  
Cows are one  
  
He hid in the forest, read books with great zeal  
He loved Che Guevara, a revolutionary veal  
Cow Tse Tung  
  
He spoke about justice, but nobody stirred  
He felt like an outcast, alone in the herd  
Cow doldrums  
  
He mooed "We must fight, escape or we'll die"  
Cows gathered around, cause the steaks were so high  
Bad cow pun  
  
But then he was captured, stuffed into a crate  
Loaded onto a truck, where he rode to his fate  
Cows are bummed  
  
He was a scrawny calf, who looked rather woozy  
No one suspected he was packing an Uzi  
Cows with guns  
  
They came with a needle to stick in his thigh  
He kicked for the groin, he pissed in their eye  
Cow well hung  
  
Knocked over a tractor and ran for the door  
Six gallons of gas flowed out on the floor  
Run cows run!  
  
He picked up a bullhorn and jumped up on the hay  
We are free roving bovines, we run free today  
  
We will fight for bovine freedom  
And hold our large heads high  
We will run free with the buffalo, or die  
Cows with guns  
  
They crashed the gate in the great stampede  
Tipped over a milk truck, torched all the feed  
Cows have fun  
  
Sixty police cars were piled in a heap  
Covered in cow pies, covered up deep  
Much cow dung  
  
Black smoke rising, darkening the day  
Twelve burning Mcdonalds, have it your way  
  
We will fight for bovine freedom  
And hold our large heads high  
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die  
Cows with guns  
  
The President said "enough is enough  
These uppity cattle, it's time to get tough"  
Cow dung flung  
  
The newspapers gloated, folks sighed with relief  
Tomorrow at noon, they would all be ground beef  
Cows on buns  
  
The cows were surrounded, they waited and prayed  
They mooed their last moos, they chewed their last hay  
Cows out gunned  
  
The order was given to turn cows to whoppers  
Enforced by the might of ten thousand coppers  
But on the horizon surrounding the shoppers  
Came the deafening roar of chickens in choppers  
  
We will fight for bovine freedom  
And hold our large heads high  
We will run free with the Buffalo, or die  
Cows with guns

Song details

Artist: Bob Rivers