Down, down the quiet vale
Where skies are always blue,
And rivers rush over pebbles
And birds sing all day long
Live a young ruddy shepherd
Who knew the forest
And made friends with her dwellers
His voice was kind, so was his hands
He believed in fairy tales and angels
And having it all figured out in mind –
He lives in his imagination
‘Dreams come true, so do wishes,’
He fondly recalls his mother’s words
The young shepherd waits on his flock,
Blessing the galaxies and the moon
That light his lonely home and night
Brought more than great joy to him
From the hills, melody from Thanksgiving
Reach him, so he listens so as not to miss,
Soft breezes brought dulcet hymns
The misty feel of the half moonshine
Nudge images in the ice-cold night
Dreams he had, dreams he craves
That’s the lore sang down the valley
In inns, homes where country roads ply
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