Foxes in the Sheepfld

18/10/2011

There are foxes in the sheepfold;

Thieves have come in over the stile.

The shepherds -  the custodians -

Were sleeping all the while.

By and by the hapless flock

Are picked off one by one

As shepherd-boy and shepherd-dog

Sleep soundly in the barn.

 

Exposed to their devouring foes -

The Wolf, the Lion, the Leopards -

Such easy pickings in the Wild,

These sheep without a shepherd!

Exposed, alone, with none to guide

The fast dwindling flock,

They wander blindly in the wild

These sheep that run amok.

 

They forgot the voice of their Keeper;

Now they find it quite enough

To follow anyone who leads,

Who needs have only a staff.

But who can know this strange terrain

And guide them anywhere?

They’ve strayed out of their master’s gate

And straight into the snare.

 

Where Lions prowl and Jackals roam;

Where the bones of the weak are piled;

A bleating throng with leader none

Lost in the mapless wild.

They follow behind, with single mind,

The leaders they see fit.

A stone-blind host, led by a blind guide

And straight into the Pit.