The cows in the moo yard
Are making their plans
For the long winter nights
And the cold winter hands

Some out in the fields
Are covered with snow
The black ones turn white
And the white ones don't show

Big lumps in the sunset
Between bovine dreams;
Their icicled udders
Are waiting for spring

And up from the road
Comes the sound of the wheel
Just an old ice cream wagon
Say, "I know how you feel"

Some dream of India
Where their cousins are stars
But they don't like the crowds
So they stay where they are

And some dream of Florida
Of roaming the beach
With metal detectors
For gold they can reach

Well, what can you do?
It's the ice or the flies
The temperature's slowing
The tails going by

It's a dairy existence
And I must conclude
Cold milk in a bottle
Still beats frozen food