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Barnstorm
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Midnight Visitor
We were visited last evening
By a servant of the day
He had travelled miles on horseback
To scout his master's way
And he only had a moment
To warm his frozen hands
And though he needed food and rest
He told us of his land
And all too soon
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He had to leave
Else sleep might block his way
And so he thanked us both, and saddled up
And softly rode away
And I thought I caught a glimpse of sun in his eye
And wheatfield in his smile
And I couldn't help but a-thinking
They would follow in a while
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