I lookit aye at even’ for her,
    Lest mishanter should come o’er her,
    Or the fowmart might devour her,
      Gin the beastie bade awa;
    My Ewie wi’ the crookit horn,
    Well deserved baith girse and corn,
    Sic a Ewe was never born,
      Hereabout nor far awa’;
    Sic a Ewe was never born, &c.

VI.

    Yet last ouk, for a’ my keeping,
    (Wha can speak it without greeting?)
    A villain cam’ when I was sleeping,
      Sta’ my Ewie, horn, and a’: 
    I sought her sair upo’ the morn,
    And down aneath a buss o’ thorn
    I got my Ewie’s crookit horn,
      But my Ewie was awa’;
    I got my Ewie’s crookit horn, &c.

VII.

    O! gin I had the loon that did it,
    Sworn I have as well as said it,
    Though a’ the warld should forbid it,
      I wad gie his neck a thra’: 
    I never met wi’ sic a turn
    As this sin’ ever I was born,
    My Ewie, wi’ the crookit horn,
      Silly Ewie, stown awa’;
    My Ewie wi’ the crookit horn, &c.

VIII.

    O! had she died o’ crook or cauld,
    As Ewies do when they grow auld,
    It wad na been, by mony fauld,
      Sae sair a heart to nane o’s a’: 
    For a’ the claith that we hae worn,
    Frae her and her’s sae aften shorn,
    The loss o’ her we could hae born,
      Had fair strae-death ta’en her awa’;
    The loss o’ her we could hae born, &c.

IX.

    But thus, poor thing, to lose her life,
    Aneath a bleedy villain’s knife,
    I ’m really fleyt that our guidwife
      Will never win aboon ’t ava: 
    O! a’ ye bards benorth Kinghorn,
    Call your muses up and mourn,
    Our Ewie wi’ the crookit horn
      Stown frae ‘s, and fell’d and a’! 
    Our Ewie wi’ the crookit horn, &c.

O!  WHY SHOULD OLD AGE SO MUCH WOUND US?

TUNE—­"Dumbarton Drums."

I.

    O! why should old age so much wound us?[2]
    There is nothing in it all to confound us: 
      For how happy now am I,
      With my old wife sitting by,
    And our bairns and our oys all around us;
      For how happy now am I, &c.

II.

    We began in the warld wi’ naething,
    And we ’ve jogg’d on, and toil’d for the ae thing;
      We made use of what we had,
      And our thankful hearts were glad,
    When we got the bit meat and the claithing;
      We made use of what we had, &c.

III.

    We have lived all our lifetime contented,
    Since the day we became first acquainted: 
      It ’s true we ’ve been but poor,
      And we are so to this hour,
    But we never yet repined or lamented;
      It ’s true we ’ve been but poor, &c.

IV.