BRING THE SHEEP IN, LUCY

.
I'm sitting up in bed
In a strange room,
With other men:
They're in bed too.
I don't know who they are;
I don't like them.

They're mumbling to themselves,
Talking rubblish.
I wish they'd go away.

Where has the room gone?
It's suddenly disappeared;
Where is it?

I'm standing in my farmyard,
With my wife,
The treasure of my life,
Lovely Lucy; She's so beautiful.
"Bring the sheep in, Lucy," I say.
She smiles and runs into the field:
Her golden hair is shining in the sun;
I love her.

Suddenly I'm in the room again:
A woman comes;
She's wearing white.
"I've brought you a cup of tea," she says.
"Are you Lucy?" I ask.

She pours me some tea:
"Lucy's coming to see you soon," she says:
"Your grandson's bringing her;
"It's a long way for one so old."

My eyes are growing dim with tears;
My mind is filling with unstoppable fears,
That terrify me.

I don't know who I am.



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