This story occurred one Halloween eve;
a night they call “Mischief Night,” I do believe.
It happened to children just ‘bout your age.
Their names, I recall, were Parsley and Sage.

Parsley was good. Friendly and kind.
A nicer person you’ll never find.
She had a best friend – that would be Sage
and they were inseparable at that young age.

Sage was the adventurous one of the pair.
She tempted trouble without any care.
Parsley would always keep her in check;
she was the chain around Sage’s neck.
Parsley kept Sage from going too far
and Sage, she kept Parsley from being a bore.
As a pair they were perfect, so it did seem,
because either alone was just too extreme.

Now let us return to that All Hallows Eve eve,
that night when fright gives your senses a leave.
For that is what happened to Parsley and Sage.
I’ll tell the tale, if you’ll turn the page…

It being Mischief Night and they being young
Parsley and Sage set out to have fun.
Sage promised Parsley they’d cause no real harm
so off the two went, down the road to the farm.

The sun was just setting as they started to walk.
Sage hatched a plan and began to talk.
Parsley, no doubt, disliked what she heard.
Tipping, she learned, is a complex word.

Now tipping is good in a restaurant setting
and a tip at the track is good if you’re betting.
But tipping a cow who’s asleep while she’s standing
is good for nothing, except a crash landing.

But tipping just one cow, just this one time,
would allow Sage her petty Mischief Night crime.
To be cool, Sage told Parsley, it had to be done.
“Also,” she pressed, “It just might be fun.”

Darkness fell as the road narrowed down to a trail.
Parsley bit to the quick of her last fingernail.
With a small patch of woods between the girls and the field,
Sage looked at Parsley and dared her to yield.

Surrounding the girls were bare, creaking trees.
Then the hoot of an owl weakened their knees.
A bat fluttered by as it crossed a full moon.
Parsley knew her decision had better come soon.

When they hopped the farm fence to the edge of the meadow
The girls heard an unhurried “moo,” low and mellow.
Slow moving clouds veiled the full moon’s bright beams
In the darkness things are not always as seems.

Parsley was scared and faced with a choice.
Inside her head she heard a small voice.
This voice was one she never knew –
her mischievous side out to make a debut.

“What am I scared of? No more sissy me!
Just a few more steps, then I’m home free!”
With this new, daring voice fresh in her mind
Parsley led Sage and charged the bovine.

Sage, being faster, caught up to her stride
just as their hands hit poor Bessy’s side.
The cow bellowed “Moooo” in midst of free-fall.
Parsley and Sage thought that would be all.

But alas, our two girls were very much wrong.
A bull in the field heard the poor cow’s swan song.
And just as our friends thought they were through
then came the response to their victim-cow’s moo.

A grunt was heard in the cool autumn air
then hooves began stomping toward the scared pair.
Parsley and Sage peered through the night
catching sight of the bull just before they took flight.

The angry old bull bucked one girl per horn,
knocking them both clear into the corn.
With the girls in the corn and the cow in the clover
a night full of tipping was finally over.

And so is this story, except for one clue
to keep this sore fate from happening to you.
Some mischief is harmless, though rarely it’s nice.
Before you act out, it’s wise to think twice.