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The old Ram she calls Charlie,
and Charlotte the Ewe,
As Andrew and Sally,
their own names they all know.
When she wants them to tarry
on any green plain,
Now, says she, you must say
until I come again.
Then with humble submission,
they always do so,
But when she long tarries,
then a-mourning they go:
With bleating and fretting,
they seem to lament;
And when she returns,
then they run to her bent:
And by way of their welcome,
bleats up in her face;
And such instance of love
was ne'er seen in such beasts.
She is no impostor,
it's very well known;
And asks no supply,
but still lives on her own:
