Send us a text He rolls up the lane at a quarter to nine, Flat cap tilted, feelin’ mighty fine, A latte in hand, not your average brew, Got a shine on his boots and a Barbour too. Used to milk the herd when the dawn was grey, Now he’s dealin’ calves in a classier way, No muck on his chinos, no straw in his hair, You’ll smell Chanel before you see him there! 🎶 Oh Slippers, the poshest farmer in town, Driving ‘cross the yard with his window down, Trading milk for calves, it’s a brand new star...