There are memorable thoughts that goes each night
As the lonely shepherd lays on his bed of soft wool
The days stress comes calling by, dragging each moment with it
Expressing to the shepherd how the day went, rough or smooth
From his bed he must see the stars glittering above the night
And with a smile upon his face he held down his pillow
Reliving the sheep bleat and the soft airs from the green valley
He taps the lid of his cigarette box each time a sheep grunted
And tried to count the numerous stars that stood boldly before him
The night was young and so was the shepherd’s dream!
