In fields where cows do graze and roam,
A treasure’s born, a creamy dome.
From humble milk, it starts its way,
To grace our tables every day.

The wheel turns slow, the curds do form,
A dance of time, a perfect storm.
With every twist and every mold,
A story of delight is told.

Sharp or mild, each has its say,
In symphonies of taste, they play.
From cheddar bold to brie so light,
Each bite a journey, pure delight.

So let us toast to cheese, our friend,
Whose flavors blend and never end.
A golden gift from fields and farms,
Embracing us with open arms.