Shepherd, Thy Flock is Scattered-08

Lambkins gambol in the field,
'neath mother's watchful sleepy eye
until unto their dames they yield,
and within the nightly fold they lie.

As weary shepherd ambles home,
Unto a ramble-shamble hut,
by well worn heels there treads alone
A staunch and steady herding mutt.

A skulking shadow views the scene
with burning eyes and gaunted frame
coveting lambchops now serene
to a wolf, he'll take either lamb or dame.

Wake, O Shepherd, thy flock is scattered,
upon the stones fresh blood is spattered!