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And while he lay bleeding,
this young Lady drew near,
And she rav'd, as distracted,
for the loss of her dear!
O curs'd be your riches,
since to true love such a foe!
For my joys are transformed
to a life of deep woe!
Then, said the dying Shepherd,
No, my love stays with you;
What's mine shall evince it,
as the flock you go throw:
Ihey're fifteen in number,
my stock is but small,
And is all I have saved,
since I knew Shepherd-hall;
Love, they will attend you,
where-ever you go,
And be your companions
thro' the hail, wind and snow;
Then she took up his crook,
his hat, and his plaid,
And as a painful shepherdess
ever since she's array'd.
