to do this meant either the death or departure of the bees.


Whisht! laatle bees, sad tidings I bear,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low;
Cauld i' his grave ligs your maister dear,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.
Nea mair he'll ride to t' soond o' t' horn,
Nea mair he'll fettle his sickle for t' corn.
Nea mair he'll coom to your skep of a morn,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.

Muther sits cryin' i' t' ingle nook,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low;
Parson's anent her wi' t' Holy Book,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.
T' mourners are coom, an' t' arval is spread,
Cakes fresh frae t' yoon,(1) an' fine havver-bread.
But toom'(2) is t' seat at t' table-head,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.

Look, conny(3) bees, I's winndin' black crape,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low;
Slowly an' sadly your skep I mun drape,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.
Else you will sicken an' dwine(4) reet away,
Heart-brokken bees, now your maister is clay;
Or, mebbe, you'l leave us wi' t' dawn o' t' day,
Bees, bees, murmurin' low.