OH! WEARY MOTHER
Reading edition
The lilies lie in my lady's bower, (Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;) They faintly droop for a little hour; My lady's head droops like a flower.
She took the porcelain in her hand, (Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;) She poured; I drank at her command; Drank deep, and now—you understand! (Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost.)
Barry Pain.