Ghost Song

A man walked alone in the early night
The gathering sheep's eyes were glazed with fright
They were moving away from the stone farmhouse
He fumbled in his jacket for his Black Grouse

His vision was blurred by the time he reached the drive
The cattle grid rattled and the wind seemed to know he'd arrived
It shook his trees and it shook his hair
He drunk some more and he felt less scared

Now as he staggered up to the door that night
He was strangely drawn to the kitchen light
and upon looking in, well, guess what he saw
The place was wrecked and a body was bent on the floor:

a brush stroke of blood
His friend's head was the brush
There were clods of mud
and the walls were red-flush

He turned on his heel and he ran down the road
away from the violated abode
His drunken footfall caused him to skid
and he got a leg caught in the cattlegrid

As he fought to free himself...
he heard a sound. He thought a wolf.
He looked around - there was no wolf near,
but who had returned? The ghostly fleet
That glaze in their eyes had not been fear!
They came at him, crying - bleat after bleat