GOING FOR A MINUTE'S LUTE
Going for a minute's lute, and how
the sound - no matter with you -
then how are all things? I'm going
for a minute's lute, I cannot tarry long.
My sheep are restless, and - as you
know, we all still live in the barn. What?
You say? The Father's gone, with hunting
rifle out? Oh, then that must be him I saw
- the man along the ridge - dallying or
something, with a lady I did not recognize.
So, then, can we sit? No, no, must be going.
Yet, I'll sit - just so as not to stop than man,
in case his something's showing, now with
her. You must now know safely yourself,
no? Hunting rifle and all that. Ha!...we all
must be about. For my sheep, across the
field, I must shout - 'Haiaye! Haiaye!'
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