By Randy Lane

I saddled up early that Sunday mornin'
a calf came up missin' somehow through the night
Not yet a day old as helpless as can be
and not a sign of him anywhere in sight
Well this put me to thinkin' about a lamb
that a good shepherd had went out to find
He looked high an' low 'til he found him
to return him to the other ninety nine
Well all of a sudden I heard a cry
from a baby calf stuck down in a hole
Lost from his mom ma through the night
how he ever got there I guess I'll never know

Copyright © Randy Lane.

(The poem is available to general media, publications and webmasters under condition that the author's name and the link to www.paulmurphybooks.com will be provided under the poem.)

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