Is that the way you mind my sheep—
Under the haystack, fast asleep?
Master, the day was long and lonely,
My mother looked down from the beautiful sky
And she sang me a song, one little song only,
Counting your sheep as they went by.
Sleep, little lad, your watch I’ll keep.
Some days are lonely, sad and long;
And I’d give all my cows and I’d give all my sheep
To hear once again my own mother’s song.”