WANDERED


The wind blows shrill along the hill,
--_Black is the night and cold_--
The sky hangs low with its weight of snow,
And the drifts are deep on the wold.
But what care I for wind or snow?
And what care I for the cold?
_Oh ... where is my lamb--
My one ewe lamb--
That strayed from the fold_?

The beasts are safely gathered in,
--_Black is the night and cold_--
They are snug and warm, and safe from harm,
In stall and byre and fold.
And the dogs and I, by the blazing fire,
Care nought for the snow and the cold.
_Oh ... where is my lamb--
My one ewe lamb--
That strayed from the fold_?

The barns are bursting with their store
Of grain like yellow gold;
A full, fat year has brought good cheer,
--_Black is the night and cold_.--
But ... What care I for teeming barns?