Milking Song

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,

Ere the early dews were falling,

Farre away I heard her song.

"Cusha! Cusha!" all along;

Where the reedy Lindis floweth,

Floweth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth

Faintly came her milking song,—

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,

"For the dews will soon be falling;

Leave your meadow grasses mellow,

Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;

Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot,

Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,

From the clovers lift your head;

Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot,

Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,

Jetty, to the milking shed."

—Jean Ingelow.