She was wide as well as tall,
Weighed 1500 pounds,
Leaving mounds on the ground.
She was a black-and-white beauty with bovine eyes,
Tryin' to raise her voice three octaves high,
Raise it way up high.

Out in the cornfields, where she found a bevy
Of the tasty food that made her so heavy.
Working on mastering falsetto--bass too,
Workin' on the right moos,
Tryin' to make it to make "Idol" news.
Workin' on the right moos,
During cuddin' time,
In the eat cuddin' time.

Had her hooves done, oh how she loved it.
She looked pretty fetching for an ungulate.
Cleaned off the dung, sung to a feckless boar.
And how her hopes soared.
Then she'd squeal in A while chewing her cud,
Her fears allayed; her performance wouldn't be a dud.
That ghoul Simon's a DB
But she didn't care--
His show's got a big share.

Workin' on the right moos,
Tryin' to lose those awkward barnyard moves,
Working on the right moos.
And do it in prime time.

And oh, the wonder
They are not fighting.
Paula, Randy, again blunder.
Simon joins them--stunner!

And the coked-up audience starts to thunder
Approval--couldn't be dumber.
Started hummin' a "song" they call rhythm and moos.
Wasted night in front of the tube.
All the no-talents justifiably lose.
She made the right moos.
My god! She's goin' to win!