Death of the Shepherd

A wounded face, a weary head

Crashes down on a tired bed

A drop of dew flows down her face

Carrying heartache with unbroken haste

Without a sound, without a weep

She tries in vain to fall asleep

Sends up a prayer that no one hears,

Battling, quietly, a growing fear

She reaches out to find His face;

Chokes on air, her only embrace

Finally, the lamb goes astray

Watching quietly as He fades away

Time to face the wolf of the world

Good luck, you daring, darling girl