this is another Iron Poet commission, this time from sheepish(DW), whose three mystery words were sheep, sheep, and sheep:)
The Flock
Lock all the windows and bar all the doors
count all the children and put them to bed
make certain the livestock is down from the moors
make sure you're secure from the thing that you dread
You've heard all the whispers, you've heard what they say
there's death to be dealt before night becomes day
the fine ladies tremble to hear their lords howl
that the sheep are not safe
when the wolf is a-prowl
Now gather the menfolk and raise the alarm
illumine the darkness with torch and with flame
call out the vassals from croft and from farm
the greybeard, the stripling, the hale and the lame
A mob becomes hunter, a beast becomes prey
there's death to be dealt before night becomes day
just try not to think about where the men went
for the sheep are not safe
when the wolf takes their scent
The morning may find you a widow or wife
your husband a hero, or still as a stone
your future can turn on a fang or a knife
for the wolf, he has wiles, and a wife of his own
now beasts becomes hunters, a mob becomes prey
there's death to be dealt before night becomes day
for they know your desires, your secrets, your shames
and the sheep are not safe
when the wolves know your names
-elyse
