In a bit of shady forest
On a cold November morn
Trod two tired collies and
Their mistress all forlorn.
Her downcast eyes were sad to see
As I watched her pass me near
Naught could she see, for her eyes
Were blinded by her tears.
The Plague had left her orphaned
For it took her parents dear
The neighbors, they had burned her house
Lest sickness be too near.
Not a soul would take her in
For she'd be one too many
And no one on her weary road
Could spare for her a penny.
Now in this bit of forest was
A chapel, all in shambles
Overgrown with weeds and moss
And hidden by the brambles.
'Twas there my little lady came
To lay her weary head
Before she closed her eyes in sleep
Two last sorry tears were shed.
I hopped upon a branch above,
Cooing softly all the while
And the collies kept their vigil o'er
The precious little child.
The sun, she sank into the West
And rose again the morn
Upon the little sleeper dear
Who wakened nevermore.
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