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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by  Ada M. Skinner and Frances Gillespy Wickes


 

 

DE SHEEPFOL'

De massa ob de sheepfol',

Dat guards de' sheepfol' bin,

Look out in de gloomerin' meadows,

Wha'r de long night rain begin—

So he call to de hirelin' shepa'd,

"Is my sheep, is dey all come in?—

My sheep, is dey all come in?"


Oh, den says de hirelin' shepa'd:

"Dey 's some, dey 's black and thin,

And some, dey 's po' ol' wedda's,

Dat can't come home agin.

[48]

Dey 's some black sheep an' ol' wedda's,

But de res', dey 's all brung in,

De res', dey 's all brung in."


Den de massa ob de sheepfol',

Dat guards de sheepfol' bin,

Goes down in de gloomerin' meadows,

Wha'r de long night rain begin—

So he le' down de ba's ob de sheepfol',

Callin' sof' "Come in. Come in."

Callin' sof "Come in. Come in."


Den up t'ro' de gloomerin' meadows,

T'ro' de col' night rain and win',

And up t'ro' de gloomerin' rain paf',

Wha'r de sleet fa' pie'cin' thin,

De po' los' sheep ob de sheepfol',

Dey all comes gadderin' in.

De po' los' sheep ob de sheepfol',

Dey all comes gadderin' in.

—SARAH PLATT GREENE.


[Illustration]


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