Who takes care of my sheep?

It was a cld fall day-
In early morning-
Even the far off clouds
Seemed half asleep-

The endless plains reach on-
Nor know the dawning-
WORDS ON THE SKY-
WHO TAKES CARE OF MY SHEEP?

Who looks after the Fold?
Why did God MAKE THEM?
to seek for HOME, within
A heartless world?
The lonely wind blowns on–
Nor waits to answer
While winter comes-
With withered leaves underled-

Come to me throgh the dusk-
cross the cornfield-
Oh Dreamer, whome I knew
In years gone by-
Before the little DEER
Came to the prairie-
To leap in glad disdain
Through prairie sky!

The mother deer leaped
From her bed of brambles-
Or Russian thistle weeds-
And warmthless clay-
To meet a steelclad bullet-
Science molded-
To cut through her soft skin
Her heart away!

Her last call, like a
Falling star unheeded-
By men; but sent to bring
The young Faun home-
Was answered by the Father Deer,
Who hurried, to lend
His pitiful aid-
TO DAVE HIS HOME!
OUT THERE ON THE HEARTLESS
PRAIRIE…….all alone.

Those quick steps were his last-

He fell beside her-

His antlers in the dust-

Nor do they care-

BUT LAUGH, to see

the little FAUN come running-

the sunshine lingers-

on here silver hair.

The SHOOT IT TOO-

So they can get their LIMIT-

A Prairie Chicken calls

From far away-

They slip a noose around

Their head and pull it-

AND HANG THEM IN A TREE

FOR THEIR LAST DAY!

It was a old fall day

In earlt morning-

Even the drifting clouds

Seemed half asleep;

The endless plains reached on,

NOR KNEW THE DAWNING-

WORDS ON THE SKY-

WHO TAKES CARE OF MY SHEEP?