Down To The Meadow
J Joyce Hemsley
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Weep not kind shepherd, dry your eyes,
the sun, it setteth in the skies,
and we've prepared a cosy bed
where you can rest your weary head.
Come follow us, oh dearest friend
your broken spirits we will mend.
Take ye this glass of ruby wine
Just one sip and you'll feel fine
because tomorrow in the morning snow
down to the meadow you must go
to tend your flock of ailing sheep
across that mountain-side so steep.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş