Nell – by William Millar
Come on Nell, we are for the hill,
To gather the ewes and chase the bill.
If he comes rather near my pad,
Hold him at bay until I wad
Across the swamp to yon march dyke –
I know you’ll be a faithful tyke.
He wad baw an croon and scrape the grun
His bawin wad echo all aroon.
If it wasn’t fer you Nell, I wad dee
Glaring that monster in the ee,
For he wad gore me till my bones wad crack,
If you got feared and took your track.
So we’ll hunt the ewes up to Carnard top
Where they’ll feed until day light;
Of the heather they will crop
It will be dry lying;
Where they will rest until dawn
Then they’ll make for the low lands
Where they’ll drink at the pond.
The whaps they are calling, ‘tis a sure sign of rain
And the ducks in the swamp are quacking again
The sun is like silver, a bad sign, I know,
So we’ll make straight for Ogen, and home we will go.