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Title
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Shepherds are the best of men
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Singer
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Puffet, John
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Song Lyrics
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Verse 1
Shepherds are the best of men
That e'er trod England's ground,
They go into an alehouse
And freely spend a crown;
They spend their money freely
And pay before they go,
For there's no ale in the vale,
Where the stormy winds do blow.
Verse 2
I keep my sheep on several plains,
Which makes my heart to bleed,
My ewes and lambs put out their tongues,
And they begin to bleat.
Cheer up your lively spirits,
And o'er the hills we'll go,
For there's no ale in the vale,
Where the stormy winds do blow.
Verse 3
I hitch my sheep and fodder them,
And see them safe at night,
And then back in good company,
That is my heart's delight;
A-drinking of strong liquor,
That which I love to do,
Whilst my sheep do sleep,
Where the stormy winds do blow.
Verse 4
The shepherd in his hut,
He must not mind the morn,
He must not mind cold weather,
Be it ever so sharp,
Cold rain, hail, frost or snow,
There there's no ale in the vale,
Where the stormy winds do blow.
