There's a little tin shed with a single track Running right up to the wooden planks Where dairy farmers dropped their cans In the early morning mist Shining clean and battered with wear They stood there lined up at the edge While horses tossed their heads and snorted Stamped their feet and tugged at reins Anxious to get on home again Then through the mist a distant light And soon a sound of familiar kind As the early mixed huffed and puffed Its way along the single line And pulled slowly in to Eucumbine Box car doors crashed open wide Filled cans with lids secured Manhandled deep inside Ready for the milk run ride To the factory further down the line
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