The new day dawns , and with it brings
The morning dew upon the grass ,
As I awake , a robin sings
A cloud slips by , like a fairy lass.
The sun climbs high , as if to speak
Of a shepherds life , in the alpine lands
His rays boil over the mountain peak
And onto the hearth where the cauldron stands.
A cup of tea , a breakfast proper
I leave my dreams of the previous night ,
And on to the kettle of gleaming copper
Where ‘neath it burns a fire bright.
The kettle full , both warm and deep
With liquid love ‘tis stirred by hand ,
This selfless offering from my sheep
Would warm the heart of any man.
Paitiently coaxing the tender curd
With experienced hands and easy mind ,
I render the gift of the alpine herd
Into wheels of gold , no better you’ll find.
The days work done , the copper bright
Wheels of gold upon the shelf ,
The herd is settling for the night ,
Now I be off to rest myself.
Off to sleep on a peaceful breeze ,
Lying alone in the mountain night ,
Such are the memories of my cheese
And they live on in every bite.