The hills are alive with the sound of moo-sic
The cattle have grazed for a thousand years
It's some work of art, symphony of moo-sic
I'm seeing some real cowch potatoes here

There's holsteins and guernsies with polka dotted spots
On their backs, black and white
They're wearing some little bells that chime in case
They are gone out of sight
They walk to the brook, they don't trip and fall over
The stones on their way
That little one sounds like a donkey that's learning to bray

I look at the cows and they're never homely
I know I have seen that same herd before
My heart is refreshed with the sound of moo-sic
It's a livestock roar