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I neither needed tar nor keel
To mark her upon hip or heel,
Her crooked horn it did as weel
To ken her by amang them a'.
The ewie, &c.
Cauld or hunger never dang her,
Wind or rain could never wrang her;
Ance she lay a week and langer,
Out aneath a wreath o'shaw.
The ewie, &c.
I looked aye at even for her,
For fear the foumart might devour her,
Or some mishanter had come o'er her,
Gin the beastie bade awa.
The ewie, &c.
Yet, Monday last, for a' my keeping,
I canna speak it without greeting,
A villain came when I was sleeping,
And stow my ewie, horn an' a'.
The ewie, &c.
I sought her sair upon the morn;
And down beneath a buss o' thorn
I got my ewie's crooked horn ;
But, ah! my ewie was awa.
The ewie, &c.
But an' I had the loon that did it,
I hae sworn as weel as said it,
Though a' the world should forbid it,
I wad gie his neck a thraw.
The ewie, &c
For a' the claith that we hae worn,
Frae her and hers sae aften shorn,
The loss o' her we could hae borne,
Had fair strae death ta'en her awa.
The ewie, &c.
But, silly thing to loose her life
Aneath a greedy villain's knife,
I'm really fear'd that our gudewife
Sall never win aboon't ava.
The ewie, &c.
Oh, a' ye bards about Kinghorn,
Call up your muses, let them mourn-
Our ewie wi' the crooked horn
Is stown frae us, and fell'd an' a'.
The ewie, &c.
