For Whom the Baa Tolls

Lo, a pack of wolves doth feast,
For the sheep have lost their shepherd.
Their bleating cries do not cease,
As they're dragged away and peppered.

But fear not, for death is nigh,
To lead the sheep to pastures new.
The grim reaper, he doth come,
To bid their souls adieu.

So let the wolves howl and sing,
For death doth give the sheep sweet rest.
Their souls doth now take wing,
To a place that is the best.

Made for Ludum Dare 52