Yet, so it was, an ewe I bought; And other sheep from her I raised, As healthy sheep as you might see; And then I married, and was rich As I could wish to be; Of sheep I numbered a full score, And every year increased my store. IV 'Year after year my stock it grew; And from this one, this single ewe, Full fifty comely sheep I raised, As fine a flock as ever grazed! Upon the Quantock hills they fed; They throve, and we at home did thrive: — This lusty Lamb of all my store Is all that is alive; And now I care not if we die, And perish all of poverty. V 'Six Children, Sir! had I to feed: Hard labour in a time of need! My pride was tamed, and in our grief I of the Parish asked relief. They said, I was a wealthy man; My sheep upon the uplands fed, And it was fit that thence I took Whereof to buy us bread. 'Do this: how can we give to you,' They cried, 'what to the poor is due?' VI 'I sold a sheep, as they had said, And bought my little children bread, And they were healthy with their food For me-it never did me good. A woeful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, The pretty flock which I had reared With all my care and pains, To see it melt like snow away — For me it was a woeful day. VII 'Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother! It was a vein that never stopped — Like blood drops from my heart they dropped. 'Till thirty were not left alive They dwindled, dwindled, one by one And I may say, that many a time I wished they all were gone — Reckless of what might come at last Were but the bitter struggle past. VIII 'To wicked deeds I was inclined, And wicked fancies crossed my mind; And every man I chanced to see, I thought he knew some ill of me: No peace, no comfort could I find, No ease, within doors or without; And, crazily and wearily I went my work about; And oft was moved to flee from home, And hide my head where wild beasts roam. IX 'Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me As dear as my own children be; For daily with my growing store I loved my children more and more. Alas! it was an evil time; God cursed me in my sore distress; I prayed, yet every day I thought I loved my children less; And every week, and every day, My flock it seemed to melt away.
