Storm upon the mountain,
Rainy torrents beating,
And the little snow-white lamb,
Bleating, ever bleating!
Storm upon the mountain,
Night upon its throne,
And the little snow-white lamb,
Left alone, alone!
Down the glen the shepherd
Drives his flock afar;
Through the murky mist and cloud,
Shines no beacon star.
Fast he hurries onward,
Never hears the moan
Of the pretty snow-white lamb,
Left alone, alone!
Up the glen he races,
Breasts the bitter wind,
Scours across the plain, and leaves
Wood and wold behind;--
Storm upon the mountain,
Night upon its throne--
There he finds the little lamb,
Left alone, alone!
Struggling, panting, sobbing,
Kneeling on the ground,
Round the pretty creature's neck
Both his arms were wound;
Soon, within his bosom,
All its bleatings done,
Home he bears the little lamb,
Left alone, alone!
Oh! the happy faces,
By the shepherd's fire!
High without the tempest roars,
But the laugh rings higher,
Young and old together
Make that joy their own--
In their midst the little lamb,
Left alone, alone!