Classic Poem

The sheep on the mountains no shepherd can find.
— Forsaken they wander in the rain and the wind.
The shepherd lad's departed with singing and glee,
— But he never, O never, shall return unto me!

There'll be sorrow at the gathering, there'll be grief at the board,
— He was free of his silver as became a young lord.
Wherever he went courting he was gentle and free.
— But he never, O never, shall return unto me!

I thought to lie by him in the grassy churchyard.
— The earth where he's lying is sandy and hard.
I cannot win to him far away across the sea,
— And he never, O never, shall return unto me!