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n 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, (1)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. X
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