Or in the spring returning to 'the dust from whence they came.'
Ah! God hath wisely ordered, sir, that in a money way,
Starving, abusing, critters are the things that will not pay.
If any of my flock are sick or hurt in any way,
I see that they are cared for, sir, by night as well as day.
My letter's on their wool, sir—'tis all the brand I know;
My lambs—they are not tailless, for God didn't make them so.
Some say sheep don't need water, but I tell you it's a lie!
They're almost frantic for it, sir, the same as you or I.
My horses—you have seen them, sir, they are just what they seem;