| |
| WITH klingle, klangle, klingle, | |
| Way down the dusty dingle, | |
| The cows are coming home; | |
| Now sweet and clear, and faint and low, | |
| The airy tinklings come and go, | 5 |
| Like chimings from some far-off tower, | |
| Or patterings of an April shower | |
| That makes the daisies grow— | |
| Ko-kling, ko-klang, koklinglelingle, | |
| Way down the darkening dingle | 10 |
| The cows come slowly home. | |
| |
| With jingle, jangle, jingle, | |
| Soft sounds that sweetly mingle, | |
| The cows are coming home; | |
| Malime, and Pearl, and Florimel, | 15 |
| DeKamp, Redrose, and Gretchen Schell, | |
| Queen Bess, and Sylph, and Spangled Sue— | |
| Across the field I hear loo-oo, | |
| And clang her silver bell, | |
| Go-ling, go-lang, golinglelingle, | 20 |
| With faint far sounds that mingle, | |
| The cows come slowly home; | |
| And mother-songs of long-gone years, | |
| And baby joys, and childish fears, | |
| And youthful hopes, and youthful fears, | 25 |
| When the cows come home. | |
| |
| With ringle, rangle, ringle, | |
| By twos and threes and single, | |
| The cows are coming home. | |
| Through the violet air we see the town, | 30 |
| And the summer sun a-slipping down; | |
| The maple in the hazel glade | |
| Throws down the path a longer shade, | |
| And the hills are growing brown. | |
| To-ring, to-rang, toringleringle, | 35 |
| By threes and fours and single, | |
| The cows come slowly home. | |
| The same sweet sound of wordless psalm, | |
| The same sweet June-day rest and calm, | |
| The same sweet scent of bud and balm, | 40 |
| When the cows come home. | |
| |
| With a tinkle, tankle, tinkle, | |
| Through fern and periwinkle, | |
| The cows are coming home; | |
| A-loitering in the checkered stream, | 45 |
| Where the sun-rays glance and gleam, | |
| Starine, Peachbloom, and Phœbe Phyllis | |
| Stand knee deep in the creamy lilies, | |
| In a drowsy dream. | |
| To-link, to-lank, tolinklelinkle, | 50 |
| O’er banks with butter-cups a twinkle | |
| The cows come slowly home; | |
| And up through memory’s deep ravine, | |
| Come the brook’s old song and its old-time sheen, | |
| And the crescent of the silver queen, | 55 |
| When the cows come home. | |
| |
| With a klingle, klangle, klingle, | |
| With a loo-oo, and moo-oo, and jingle, | |
| The cows are coming home; | |
| And over there on Merlin hill, | 60 |
| Hear the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill; | |
| The dew-drops lie on the tangled vines, | |
| And over the poplars Venus shines; | |
| And over the silent mill, | |
| Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle, | 65 |
| With a ting-a-ling, and jingle, | |
| The cows come slowly home. | |
| Let down the bars; let in the train | |
| Of long-gone songs, and flowers, and rain; | |
| For dear old times come back again | 70 |
| When the cows come home. | |
| |
