Oh, the cow-bells are a-tinklin', and the daisies are a twinklin'—
Well, that ain't the style exactly I intended for to sing.
'Ark, was ever music greater than the buzzin' sepyrater,
Coinin' gaily money daily for the—no, that's not the thing!
'Omeward come the cows a-lowin', an' the buttercups are blowin';
But there's better butter in the—Blarst! That ain't the proper way!
See the pretty milkmaid walkin'—aw, but what's the use of talkin'?
Listen 'ere, I want to tell you this: A COW'S THE THING TO PAY!
Sell your 'orses, sell your 'arrers, an' your reapers, an' your plough;
If you want your land to pay you, sacrifice your life to Cow.
Cow, Cow—
Sittin' underneath the bough,
With a bail, an' with a pail, an' with a little stool, an' thou
Kickin' when I pull your teat or
Swishin' flies, my pretty creatur.
Ah, there ain't no music sweeter—money squirtin' from the Cow.
Listen to the lowin' cattle. Listen to the buckets' rattle,
See, the sun is—('Ere! You Bill! D'you mean to stay all day asleep?
