The Sheep Shearers

How delightful to see,
In those evenings  in spring,
The sheep going home to the fold:
The Master doth sing,
As he views everything,
And his dog goes before him where told,
And his dog goes before him where told.

The sixth month of the year,
In the month called June,
When the weather’s too hot to be borne,
The Master doth say,
As he goes on his way,
Tomorrow the sheep will be shorn,
Tomorrow the sheep will be shorn.

Now, as for those sheep,
They’re delightful to see;
They’re a blessing to a man on his farm.
For their flesh it is good,
It’s the best of all food,
And the wool it will clothe us up warm
And the wool it will clothe us up warm.

Now, the sheep they’re all shorn,
And the wool carried home,
Here’s a health to our Master and flock;
And, if we should stay
Till the last goes away,
I’m afraid it will be past twelve o’clock
I’m afraid it will be past twelve o’clock.