And they danced, their feet were like wings,

Across the field where the blackbird sings,

Through the woods where the hedgehogs play,

Over the stream where the brown trout lay,

They stop at the field as the farmer ploughs,

And asked him for milk from contented cows,

‘Let me think,’ said the farmer scratching his chin,

‘Ah yes…evaporated’…in the red and white tin.