Song of the Wild Sheep - Poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Song of the Wild Sheep

Does a sheep ever long to be a free spirit?
While waiting in a pen for shearing time
And flocked with other sheep between the rows
Of fences channeling them here and there?

Does it imagine itself a timbersheep
Stalking poor winter grass through snowy woods
Or a furry hippie groovin’ at Sheepstock
Or yet a philosopher named Ovis?

If a sheep ever mahhhhhs a manifesto
It will be set to mewesic by Mahhhhhler!