Come, children.”
During the summer months you might hear a Norwegian girl, high up on a mountain, calling her cows with such a rhyme. She would, no doubt, call each cow by name, just as the girl does in the old rhyme.
That hear my call,
Brynhilda fair,
With nut-brown hair!
Come, little Rose,
Ere day shall close;
And Birchen Bough,
My own dear cow;