| lyric | Shepherds lads, shepherds lads,
and where were you lying?
You at home were sleeping
while the sheep were straying.
Put your trust in the Lord,
nothing ill will befall;
he’s sharp and at your call.
Sheep grazing in the fileds,
I care not who guards you;
brigandage atracts me,
’tis that I shall pursue.
Sheep, my sheep in green fields,
clad in snowy whiteness,
schaadows of the gallows
bode my future’s darkness.
White sheep, O my white sheep,
near the sheep pen clust’ring,
well you know to hang me
they are now preparing. |