And the old cow lows at the gate to greet him,
The horses prick up their ears to meet him.
"Well, well, old Bay,
Ha, ha, old Gray,
Do you get good food when I'm away?"
"You haven't a rib," says Farmer John;
"The cattle are looking round and sleek;
The colt is going to be a roan,
And a beauty, too; how he has grown!
We'll ween the calf in a week."