By older men, I trudged along,
In the path of the setting sun,
Calling, “Co’ bos! co’ bos! co’ bos!”
And often the baby stars
Played hide-and-seek from behind a cloud,
Ere I left the pasture bars.
No more do I hear in the city’s din,
(And never shall I again),
The country sounds in the early morn,
As I trudged a-down the lane;