The Milk Jug

The Gentle Milk Jug blue and white

I love with all my soul,

She pours herself with all her might

To fill my breakfast bowl.

All day she sits upon the shelf,

She does not jump or climb—

She only waits to pour herself

When ’tis my supper-time.

And when the Jug is empty quite,

I shall not mew in vain,

The Friendly Cow, all red and white,

Will fill her up again.