Sheep
This lovely poem has been written by Barbara Whitehead about her soft spot for sheep …
Sheep
Sheep have always been my favourite.
Quite down to earth – nothing elaborate.
Just simple souls with simple minds,
Who live to eat grass most of the time.
They’re out in the fields come rain or shine.
From the look on their faces, the don’t give a damn
About motorists, tourists or passers by.
They just have a certain look in their eye!
(As if you don’t exist.)
They stand there idly chewing the cud,
And occasionally give out a ‘Baaaaaaaaa!’
Their look says ‘Don’t be standin’ lookin’ at me –
Get back in yer car!’
So, not for me the real variety,
For I don’t belong to the ‘high society’
Who have room on their land for cows and sheep,
So replica ones are what I’ll keep.
(In me back!)
I first bought two in the supermarket – in the aisles!
I fell in love with their foolish smiles;
Sat up there on the shelf,
I found them preferable to a gnome or elf.
They’ve sat on my lawn in all weathers.
They’re not made of wool, (or feathers!)
I don’t have to worry they might be cold –
‘Cos they’re made of plastic, out of a mould.
I’d seen some in the garden centre;
I fancied they looked a bit ‘posh’
But they’re not as good as real ones
And at the time I was short of ‘dosh.’
This year, two more did come.
Bought on a nice day – well, there was sun!
They came from Grassington in the Dales,
Tho’ I think they have cousins over in Wales.
I bought them from some lovely folk.
They’re made of wood (but I don’t think oak!)
They’ve come to join the other two,
But on the grass they wouldn’t do!
These looked better on the deck.
It’s a shame – but ‘what the ‘eck!
They look quite good by t’ chairs and tubs,
And looked quite lost among the shrubs.
These two have got quite spikey coats
And funny tails, and don’t eat grass – (or oats!)
They’re not much use at all you see,
But are quite amusing for me to ‘ave in me back –
(maybe under a tree.)
Now, real ones – they’re designed to eat grass
From many a field or rocky pass.
They stand there chewing – all nonsulant
And if you’ve a mind to drive past them –
Well – you cant!
The best idea would be to import
A couple of real ones to keep t’ grass short.
But the ones I’ve got are no use for that,
So my old man will ‘av ter don ‘is ‘at,
And push the mower round the garden,
While they stand there and watch –
All superior – AND WOODEN!!
Written by Barbara Whitehead
