Summer: The Shepherd O’ The Farm
Oh! I be shepherd o’ the farm,
Wi’ tinklen bells an’ sheep-dog’s bark,
An’ wi’ my crook a-thirt my eaerm,
Here I do rove below the lark.
An’ I do bide all day among
The bleaeten sheep, an’ pitch their vwold;
An’ when the evenen sheaedes be long,
Do zee em all a-penn’d an’ twold.
An’ I do zee the frisken lam’s,
Wi’ swingen tails an’ woolly lags,
A-playen roun’ their veeden dams
An’ pullen o’ their milky bags.
An’ I bezide a hawthorn tree,
Do’ zit upon the zunny down,
While sheaedes o’ zummer clouds do vlee
Wi’ silent flight along the groun’.
An’ there, among the many cries
O’ sheep an’ lambs, my dog do pass
A zultry hour, wi’ blinken eyes,
An’ nose a-stratch’d upon the grass;
But, in a twinklen, at my word,
He’s all awake, an’ up, an’ gone
Out roun’ the sheep lik’ any bird,
To do what he’s a-zent upon.
An’ I do goo to washen pool,
A-sousen over head an’ ears,
The shaggy sheep, to cleaen their wool
An’ meaeke em ready vor the sheaers.
An’ when the shearen time do come,
Then we do work vrom dawn till dark;
Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome
Do mark their zides wi’ meaesters mark.
An’ when the shearen’s all a-done,
Then we do eat, an’ drink, an’ zing,
In meaester’s kitchen till the tun
Wi’ merry sounds do sheaeke an’ ring.
Oh! I be shepherd o’ the farm,
Wi’ tinklen bells an’ sheep dog’s bark,
An’ wi’ my crook a-thirt my eaerm,
Here I do rove below the lark.
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