Sheep
The notes of a thin pipe falter
As the dull evening meets its end;
Brush for a make-shift shelter
Not a match for the cruel wind:
The spindly sheep stand huddled,
Grown tired of the withered grass;
The men and their flock all anxious
For the threat of the night to pass.
The voice of an angel pierced their sleep
And they woke in a blazing light;
"Good news," said the angel, "Goodwill to all men,"
But his comfort filled them with fright:
Then they heard a choir singing
With a sweetness unknown before,
And they saw the lambs all dancing,
And they praised God for what they saw.
The baby laid in the manger
Hardly looked like an infant king;
But their simple faith did not waver
As they made him their offering:
Their puzzled leader marvelled
That the fleece was so rich and deep;
The good news had clearly favoured
The poor shepherds and their sheep.