The Cows in the moo yard
Are making their plans
For the long winters 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 lamps 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
They 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 slowing
The tails going by.

It's a dairy existence
And I must conclude
Cold milk in a bottle
Still beats Frozen Foods.