I herd the bales on Christmas Day
They don't go far, they're only hay.
Through snow and sleet
My cows and sheep
And pigs will go and feed on them.

I thought how when the summer came
My city wife thought it was lame
To let the lawn
Blot out the sun
So cows and sheep could feed on them

Till singing, swinging with my scythe
I cut the grass now three feet high.
I left it lay
To dry for hay
So cows and sheep could feed on them.

Then in dispair she bowed her head,
"You did not bag the grass," she said.
And so in vain
I tried to 'splain.
"Those cows and sheep, I'll feed on them."

Then answered I in angered tone,
"You leave my cows and sheep alone.
I shall not fail,
The hay I'll bale
So cows and sheep can feed on them."