The White Shepherd
I spent many years tramping the Highlands. This song was written after visiting a friend in Strath Conon, just as the first snows fell.In that wild place the way of life seems hardly changed for centuries. The title phrase, meaning the snow, was used by one of the human shepherds in the Valley.
Mike
THE WHITE SHEPHERD Written by Mike O’Connor.
Days are short the wind is chill frost is hard and streams are still
The year is on the wane
Winter thorn is bright with berries deer are grazing in the valley
It will not be long before the White Shepherd comes again.
Geese are flying white as winter frozen branches crack and splinter
The fox is in his den
Cattle in the byre are lowing icicles like knives are growing
Nature has it’s way of knowing the White Shepherd comes again.
Sheep are on the lower pasture flakes of white are falling faster
Drifts have blocked the way
The trembling lamb cries for it’s mother sounds and fields with snow are smothered
Hard is life as she discovers the White Shepherd comes again.
The rising sun is falsely bright grey as steel is morning light
Sleet is in the rain
The land is given another day fox seeks out some other prey
Cruel and kind is natures way the White Shepherd comes again.
Days are short the wind is chill frost is hard and streams are still
The year is on the wane
The lambs will be the first to know green shoots lie beneath the snow
Life and seasons come and go the White Shepherd comes again.