Grand history on curious subjects, both entertaining and pleasant/The Shepherd and his Flock
The Shepherd and his Flock.
UPON yon heather hill so high,
The shepherd’s flock doth go,
Both night and day they there do stay,
Thro winter’s frost and snow.
The shepherd rises from his bed,
Himself doth ready make,
Gets on his shoes and snow-boots both,
His journey for to take.
Away in haste the shepherd goes,
With courage if stout and bold,
With dog, his plaid, and kent also,
He fears no frost nor cold.
The shepherd goes to view his flock,
To see if they be right;
Gin no devouring beast hath come,
Upon them in the night.
For to disturb his flock’s repose
When they were left alone,
Just in the dead time of the night,
When he to bed was gone.
Some times the ravening wolf doth come
And catches some also,
Or windy storms may drive astray,
Or cover them with snow.
He gathers all his flock also,
Just with his special care,
For fear that any one be lost,
No toil or pains doth spare.
Then all the stormy winter day
His flock he doth attend,
With chearful heart and willing mind,
The tedious hours doth spend.
The stormy winter doth pass o’er,
The spring-time it doth come,
April it is the month also,
Ewes brings forth their young.
He rises early with the sun,
While doth the small birds sing,
For to attend his ewes and lambs,
Till Phœbus evening bring.
Such pleasant music fills his ear,
The bleating lambs also,
The ewes doth answer them again,
By bleating as they go.
When ev’ry brae’s with verdure clad
Of pleasant flowr’s that spring,
He sits him down to take a rest,
A pleasant song to sing.
Altho’ of gold and money scant,
He's cheerful and content,
For to attend his flock each day,
With dog his plaid and kent.
While as the summer doth pass on,
He doth his flock thus shear,
And every time his sheep is shorn,
Their coat hath worn a year.
He spanes his sucking lambs also,
When the set time doth come,
Altho’ he still lets some suck on.
While yet they are but young.
They then prepare a bught of fleck,
To milk his ewes also;
The charming maids come out to milk,
Thus singing as they go:
A pleasant life the shepherd hath,
He loves the lasses dear,
And when that he comes home at night,
Of kissing he’s not sweer
He rises early by the sun,
To bught his ewes also,
The maids again doth rise with him,
Into the bught they go:
Then all the pleasant summer day ,
The herd his flock doth keep,
And while that others toil and drudge,
The shepherd feeds his sheep.
And when the heathers in the bloom,
All round about him steers,
The busy bees with humming drone,
In sun-shine days he hears.
The shepherd may employ his hand,
Or yet his mind employ,
Contemplating his Maker’s works,
Or books he may enjoy.
And when the year is crowned full,
Then winter doth draw near,
He doth prepare himself also,
With tar his flock to smear.
To kill the keds and vermin then,
And keep them warm also,
Thro’ cold and frosty winter nights
When stormy winds do blow.
A short hint of the shepherd here,
A hearty lad is he,
Of all the wight and supple lads
The shepherd bears the gree.