Walk up the holy hill
A trail beside a fence
Where the grass is heaven
Each blade a twinkling star
And the sheep rest in peace
Beneath the shepherd’s gaze
There is no exertion
But the cares you may bring
Pressed heavy on your back
Old bones stuffed in a pack
Take off the rattling mount
Tie it to a fence post
And let the winds bounce her
Like a shriveled, old shrew
Then continue your way
Up the cobblestone trail
With no thought in your mind
For what to eat nor drink
The Good Lord will feed you
Whisper dew to your soul
Lift up your heavy chin
And lead you to your home
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