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LITTLE GRAVE (John D. Loudermilk) John D. Loudermilk - 1966 On Christmas Eve I went a walking out beyond the city gate For to fetch a fresh young pheasant for my darling's Christmas plate It was snowing oh so quietly and the woods were wide and soft Just the sound of snowflakes falling and the footsteps as I walked There I saw a fresh young pheasant and I shot and killed him there And I heard a distant church bell as the bird fell from the air As I held his dying body the strangest thought came over me God had made this little body that I have killed on Christmas Eve All the woods were dark and shadowed with the light the cold stars gave I sent a prayer to God in heaven and covered up the little grave And covered up the little grave

    


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