They hit the hay,
and then soon cream we will see
on top of the milk—
it will delicious be.
But as I’m walking back to my home,
I hear a beautiful bovine tone.

I can hear moo shtik,
I can hear moo shtik.
That sound is uplifting takes me far away from here.
I can hear moo shtik,
sweet cream moo shtik.
That sound really touches me and
I give a small cheer.

Luncheon moos
means that they’re gratified.
I don’t fee them grain, oh no!
They get hay and silage sides.
There is no need to cook that feed.
Pretty soon their udders I’ll start to knead.

Then I’ll hear moo shtick,
very clear moo shtik
as cows I am milking, taking milk into my pail here.
It’s quite near, moo shtik,
sweet cream moo shtik.
I pound on those udders, and then
I’ll go have a beer.

I hear the moo shtik as I dine,
I hear the moo shtik with wine I’m tasting.
I hear the moo shtik and feel fine
I hear the moo shtik;
I’m clearly moo-shtik-praising.

Mooooooooooo!

I can hear moo shtik,
I can hear moo shtik.
That sound get me drifting away as sleep’s drawing near.
I can hear moo shtik,
sweet-dreams moo shtik.
Next day it’s another wake-up
call that’s loud and clear.