Through the long day the cows are seen
All graz-ing as they go,
Wan-der-ing a-long the mea-dows green
Where yel-low hawk-weeds grow.
But when the clock with-in the tower
Strikes five, they al-ways pace
Slow-ly—for well they know the hour—
Home to the milk-ing place.
Then in the yard quite still they stand,
Swing-ing their la-zy tails,
Where Ann and Su-san are at hand
With stools and milk-ing pails
I love to see the white milk flow,
And in the pail froth up;
And Ann, who is so kind, I know,
Will let me fill my cup. |
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