THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF
O woe is me for the merry life
I led beyond the Bar,
And a treble woe for my winsome wife
That weeps at Shalimar.
They have taken away my long jezail,
My shield and sabre fine,
And heaved me into the Central Jail
For lifting of the kine.
The steer may low within the byre,
The Jut may tend his grain,
But there'll be neither loot nor fire
Till I come back again.
And God have mercy on the Jut
When once my fetters fall,
And Heaven defend the farmer's hut
When I am loosed from thrall.