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