THE LITTLE GRAVE

By John D. Loudermilk
1963 Acuff-Rose Publ. Inc.

On Christmas Eve I went a-walkin'
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 white and soft
Just the sound of snow flakes falling
And the footsteps as I walked

There I saw a fresh young pheasant
And I shot and I 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
And with the light the cold stars gave
I said a prayer to God in heaven
And covered up the little grave

(source: Standard Songs Pop/ Country/ Blues/ Folk/ Instumentals/ Novelty, Acuff-Rose Publications Inc. 1956-1973)

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