In Valachians from the ground
Who will chase away my goats.
I would have chased them away
But I was afraid of a wolf.
Oh, Lord, my shepherd
You’ll get skin and I’ll get fat.
The skin is for your bagpipes. The fat is for my teeth.
Oh, goat, goat
Give us cheese, farmer’s wife
If you don’t give us cheese
You will bring up Weak boys.
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