The Poetry Corner

Lambkin Mine (From Arne)

By Bjrnstjerne Martinius Bjrnson

Kille, kille, lambkin mine, Though it often be hard to climb Over the rocks upswinging, Follow thy bell's sweet ringing! Kille, kille, lambkin mine, Take good care of that fleece-coat thine! Sewed to one and another, Warm it shall keep my mother. Kille, kille, lambkin mine, Feed and fatten thy flesh so fine! Know, you dear little sinner, Mother will have it for dinner!