EARLY in the morning, when the dawn is on the roofs, br You hear his wheels come rolling, you hear his horses hoofs; br You hear the bottles clinking, and then he drives away: br You yawn in bed, turn over, and begin another day! br br The old-time dairy maids are dear to every poet's heart- br I'd rather be the dairy man and drive a little cart, br And bustle round the village in the early morning blue, br And hang my reigns upon a hook, as I've seen Casey do.