On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
On moonlit heath and lonesome bankThe sheep beside me graze;And yon the gallows used to clankFast by the four cross ways.
A careless shepherd once would keepThe flocks by moonlight there,And high amongst the glimmering sheepThe dead man stood on air.
They hang us now in Shrewsbury jail:The whistles blow forlorn,And trains all night groan on the railTo men that die at morn.
There sleeps in Shrewsbury jail to-night,Or wakes, as may betide,A better lad, if things went right,Than most that sleep outside.
And naked to the hangman's nooseThe morning clocks will ringA neck God made for other useThan strangling in a string.
And sharp the link of life will snap,And dead on air will standHeels that held up as straight a chapAs treads upon the land.
So here I'll watch the night and waitTo see the morning shine,When he will hear the stroke of eightAnd not the stroke of nine;
And wish my friend as sound a sleepAs lads' I did not know,That shepherded the moonlit sheepA hundred years ago.
(1) Hanging in chains was called keeping sheep by moonlight.
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