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woo’, tarry woo’. Tarry woo’ is ill to ſpin, Card it weel, card it weel, Card it weel ere ye begin. When ’tis carded, row’d and ſpun, Then the work is ha’ſlins done; But when woven, dreſs’d, and clean, It may be cleading for a queen.

Sing my bonny harmleſs ſheep, That feed upon the mountains keep, Bleating ſweetly as ye go Thro’ the winter’s froſt and ſnow: Hart, and hind, and fallow deer, No by. ha’f ſo uſeful are: True kings to him that hauds the plough, Are a11 oblig’d to tarry woo’.

Up ye Shepherds, dance and ſkip, O’er the hills and valleys trip. Sing up the praiſe of tarry woo’, Sing the flocks that bear it too: Harmleſs creatures without blame! That dead the back, and cram the wame; Keeps us warm and hearty ſou; Leeſe me on my tarry woo’.