Down in a pasture
far and deep
one little shepherd
was counting her sheep.
A sweet valley breeze
tickling her face
down in the shade
a feeling of grace.
Counting, one sheep,
two sheep, three sheep, four
counting's my sheep
quite a chore.
Five sheep, six sheep,
seven and eight,
eyes getting droopy,
sleeping's my fate.
Nine sheep, ten sheep,
feeling so nice,
eleven sheep, twelve sheep
not done yet.
T
thirteen sheep, fourteen
falling asleep,
dreaming a dream,
bottle of cream.
Dreaming now dreaming,
her sheep did wander
down by the streaming
no thunder, no thunder.
And a tiny little cricket,
at the edge of night,
woke her a singing,
in the fading of light.
Cricket, oh cricket,
where are my sheep,
Where did they go,
while I was asleep?
Little girl little girl,
they've wandered away,
wandered, oh wandered,
while you were asleep.
Rise up, rise up,
their way down the hill,
with Willy your sheep dog,
watching them still.