Wrapped in fog,quiet at night,

The city is at the hill’s feet.

Mother and son are tied tight,

Near where two streets meet.


“Stand still” she would have told him,

“You’ll soon have food, you’ll see,

For dawn is in the offing,

And they’ll have some need of me.”


“Look now, here comes the man,

Who’ll feed us, as I said,

But who are those there with him,

What do they want, I dread.”


“Eat quick, the sun is getting up,

I’ll soon have work to do,

So stand tall, now, my little pup,

Perhaps you’ll get some, too.”


So they went on down the road,

Donkey and son led away.

To carry, for once, a precious load,

For this is Palm Sunday.