Evening airs are comfort to a tired soul,
Which all morning was submerged in wool,
Cuddled by cute lamb, fresh and beautiful.
Up in the skies, glittering stars play their role
Stories of the giraffe and the moon they tell,
How the giraffe ate the sickly moon half!
As the Shepherd lay down on the green turf
Calm airs bring to him the stories he told himself;
The stone man, wild goose and the short red Elf
But the Shepherd’s favorite is the tale of the mad Dwarf,
Who traveled all day to find his lost gold
Through snow he went, across rivers, forests and wastelands!
And when upon a quiet city he came, he settled and searched
Counting three and two before one, putting the cart before the horse
He was doomed to find nothing of such, so he took to daydreaming
Poor Dwarf! What was lost, was lost… His gold plates, spoons and ring!
But he did find something, love! ah love made the story interesting
Now before the Shepherd retired to bed, he heard a Nightingale sing
So he listened and allowed his heart beat dance, joyfully with the rhythm
Surely, the Night airs has a way of playing on his weary fancy