Classic Poem

Traveller.

Ruddy old Shepherd, blithe of cheer,

Chorus.

(Here's to the leg that's lusty!)

Traveller.

When comes to you the pick of the year?

Chorus.

(Mark what he says ... he's trusty!)

Shepherd.

" When I watch yon Fire in the chimney roar. . . . "

Chorus.

(What in the embers dreamt he?)

Shepherd.

" And sparks flee up from the embers' core. . . . "

Chorus.

(Fill up his can — it's empty!)

Shepherd.

" While out on the moorland gale I hear. . . . "

Chorus.

(Here's to the woes we bury!)

Shepherd.

" Some Fiddle, ranting and rovering near! ... "

Chorus.

(Hail to that fiddler merry!)

Shepherd.

" Yon Fire, so great and so quick with glee. . . . "

Chorus.

(Here's to the world so stormy!)

Shepherd.

" Is Love, the breath o' the world, you see . . . . "

Chorus.

(Here's to the mother that bore me!)

Shepherd.

" And ... hark to the Fiddle! ... That's Hope! Play on. . . . "

Chorus.

(Fiddle, we send a chorus!)

Shepherd.

" Idling and wheedling, and come and gone! ... "

Chorus.

(Long may it march before us!)