When 'tis carded, rov'd and spun,
Then the wark ⟨is⟩ hastena done;
But when woven, drest, and clean
It may be cleading for a Queen.
Sing my bonny harmless sheep,
That feed upon the mountains steep;
Bleatng sweetly as they go,
Throngh the winters frost and snow;
Hart and hind, and fallow deer,
Not by ⟨half⟩ so ⟨useful⟩ are;
Free kings to him that ⟨hauds⟩ the plow,
Are all ⟨oblig'd⟩ to tarry woo.
Up ya shepherds, dance and skip,
O'er the hills and valleys trip,
Sing up the praise of tarry woo.
Sing the ⟨flocks⟩ that bear it too:
Harmless creatures without blame,
That cleads the back and warms the wame,
Keeps us warm and hearty fu';
Leeze me on the tarry woo.
How happy is a shepherd's life!
Far frae court and free from strife,
While the gimmers bleat and bar,
And the lambkins answer—mae!
