Shine, shine, morning light, shine.
Shine, shine, morning light.
Young shepherd woke one morn,
Father's hand on his shoulder heavy and worn,
Go now and keep my fold.
Father gave his blade,
Mother the sheepskin coat she'd made.
His feet started down the road,
Never to come home.
Under the shadowy hill, he sleeps in the valley low,
Where the whisperin' river flows.
The eyes of the moon look to see, if he is dreaming of home,
From the field where he keeps the fold.
Young shepherd, there are so many suns still to come.
Wolves howl around the caves,
His eyes are still, yet he shakes holding the blade.
This forest is full of teeth.
A cold wind spears his skin,
He pulls close the coat now wearin' thin.
He must cut off the arms of night,
If they're hungry to take life.
Under the shadowy hill, he sleeps in the valley low,
Where the whisperin' river flows.
The eyes of the moon look to see, if he is dreaming of home,
From the field where he keeps the fold.
Young shepherd, there are so...
Young shepherd, there are so...
Young shepherd, there are so
Many suns
Still to come.
O'er this mountain there will be more,
From field to field some will die and some will be born.
Will you keep walking on?
Arms may guard and a staff may guide,
But in the violent night you may give up your life.
Just don't betray the fold,
Like a wolf dressed in sheep wool.
Under the shadowy hill, you sleep in the valley low,
Where the whisperin' river flows.
The eyes of the moon look to see, if you are dreaming of home,
From the field where you keep the fold.
Young shepherd, there are so many suns still to come,
Still to come.
Shine, shine, morning light, shine.
Shine, shine, morning light.
Shine, shine, morning light, shine.
Shine, shine, morning light.
Shine, shine, morning light, shine.
Shine, shine, morning light.
Shine, shine, morning light, shine.
Shine, shine, morning light.