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Rh When other ewes they lap the dyke,

And ate the kail for a’ the tyke,

My ewie never play’d the like.

But tees’d about the barn-yard wa’.

The ewie, &c.

A better nor a thriftier beaſt

Nae honeſt man cou’d weel ha’wiſt,

For, bonny thing, ſhe never miſt

To hae ilk year a lamb or twa.

The ewie, &c.

The firſt ſhe had I gae to Jocky

To be to him a kind o’ ſtock,

And now the laddie has a flock

Of mair nor thirty head to ca’.

The ewie, &c.

The neiſt I gae to Jean, and now

The bairn’s ſae braw, her fauld ſae fu’,

That lads ſae thick come here to woo,

They’re fain to ſleep on hay or ſtraw.

The ewie, &c.

I looked ay at e’en for her,

For fear the fumart might devour her;

Or ſome miſhanter might devour her,

If the beaſtie bade awa’.

The ewie, &c. Rh