Bringing Home The Cows

A poem by Andrew Barton Paterson

Shadows of the twilight falling
On the mountain’s brow,
To each other birds are calling,
In the leafy bough.
Where the daisies are a-springing,
And the cattle bells are ringing,
Comes my Mary, gaily singing,
Bringing home the cows.

By a bush the pathway skirted,
Room for two allows.
All the cornfields are deserted,
Idle are the ploughs.
Striving for wealth’s spoil and booty,
Farmer boys have finished duty,
When I meet my little beauty,
Bringing home the cows.

Tender words and kind addresses,
Most polite of bows,
Rosy cheeks and wavy tresses
Do my passions rouse

Dress so natty and so cleanly,
Air so modest and so queenly.
Oh! so haughty, yet serenely,
Bringing home the cows.

Arm-in-arm together walking,
While the cattle browse,
Earnestly together talking,
Plighting lovers’ vows.
Where the daisies are a-springing,
Wedding bells will soon be ringing,
Then we’ll watch our servant bringing
Mine and Mary’s cows.

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