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With klingle, klangle, klingle, Way down the dusty dingle The cows are coming home; How sweet and clear, and faint and low, The airy tinklings come and go, Like chimings from some far-off tower, Or patterings of an April shower That makes the daisies grow— Ko-kling ko-klang, koklingle lingle, Way down the darkening dingle The cows come slowly home. With a klingle, klangle, klingle, With a loo-oo and moo-oo and jingle The cows are coming home: And over there on Merlin's hill Hear the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will, The dewdrops lie on the tangled vines, And over the poplar Venus shines And over the silent mill. Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolingle lingle With a ting-a-ling and jingle The cows come slowly home. Let down the bars, let in the strain Of long-gone songs, and flowers and rain; For dear old times come back again When the cows come home. |