She’d licked the birth slime from her lamb she’d licked him clean and dry
But the little lamb lay motionless he did not blink an eye.
I’ve seldom witnessed a more moving scene a scene I won’t forget
I watched her trying to rouse her lamb from sleep the sleep of death
With her horns she raised her lambkin up for to stand him on his feet
But the lifeless lambkin fell back down to his grave the Clara heath.
She bleated to her new born son a mother to lambkin cry
But her lifeless son did not respond he did not make reply
I watched as she tried to rouse her lamb from death’s unending sleep
That horned ewe of Clara hill that black faced mountain sheep.
I pitied her on Clara hill on that mild April morn
That broken hearted mother standing by her lamb Stillborn
You may look on sheep as stupid but a sheeep has feelings too
And human mother grieves for her dead and so does mother ewe.