Scotish song . all obligd to tarry woo. Up ye fhepherds, dance and /kip,Oer the hills and valleys trip ;Sing up the praife of tarry woo,Sing the flocks that bear it too ;Harmlefs creatures without blame,That dead the back, and cram the wame^Keep us warm and hearty fou;Leefe me on the tarry woo. ( 285 ) How happy is a Ihepherds life,Far frae courts, and free of ftrife !While the gimmers bleet and bae.,And the lambkins anfwer mae jNo fuch muiick to his ear;Of thief or fox he has no fear;Sturdy kent, and colly too,Well defend the tarry woo. He lives content and envies none ;Not even a monarch on
Scotish song . all obligd to tarry woo. Up ye fhepherds, dance and /kip,Oer the hills and valleys trip ;Sing up the praife of tarry woo,Sing the flocks that bear it too ;Harmlefs creatures without blame,That dead the back, and cram the wame^Keep us warm and hearty fou;Leefe me on the tarry woo. ( 285 ) How happy is a Ihepherds life,Far frae courts, and free of ftrife !While the gimmers bleet and bae.,And the lambkins anfwer mae jNo fuch muiick to his ear;Of thief or fox he has no fear;Sturdy kent, and colly too,Well defend the tarry woo. He lives content and envies none ;Not even a monarch on his throne,Tho he the royal fcepter fways,Has not fweeter holy be a king, can ony tell,When a fhepherd fmgs fae well ?Sings fae well, and pays his due,With hone ft heart and tarry woo. SONG XLI. THE EWIE WI THE CROOKED HORN. BY MR. SKINNER, A MINISTER. mm gizza O were I a - ble to re-hearfe, My ip^ji^ii^ ewies praife in proper verfe, Id found it ( 286 ) g^E=£=|=j=f out as loud and fierce As ~ e-ver pip-ers drone coud blavv. The ew-ie wi the crooked g^^^^^ horn Well defervdbaithgarfe and corn; Sic a EfF^ fe.— ew-ie neer was born, Here-a - bout or far i i I neither needed tar nor keil,To mark her upo hip or heel,Her crooked horn it did as well, To ken her by amo them ewie, Sec. She never threatend fcab nor rot,But keeped ay her ain jog trot, ( 287 ) Baith to the fauld and to the cot, Was never fweer to lead nor ca\The ewie, &c. Nae cauld nor hunger eer her dang,Nor win nor rain could eer her wrang,For anes fhe lay a heal week lang Aneath a drearie wreath of ewie, &c. When other ewes they lap the dyke,And ate the kail for a the tyke,My ewie never playd the like, But teesd about the barn yard ewie, &c, A better nor a thriftier beaftNae honeft man coud well ha wift,For, bonny thing, fhe never mitt To hae ilk year a lamb or ewie, &c. The firft fhe had I gae to Jock,To be to him a kind of flock,And now the laddie has a flock ; Of ma
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