How many of you
\nwho read these words
\nHave seen us in the field
\nJoyously, approaching Spring
\nWith all that it does yield
\nThose sudden pirouettes we do
\nThe vibrancy we feel
\nSentient little souls we are
\nAnd everything feels real
\nThe thorns can tear an ear or slice
\na nose, and don’t we cry
\nFor pain is pain whatever
\nAs in the grass we lie
\nAmongst the gorgeous Buttercups
\nand Daisies, eyes of blue
\nMy coat is thick and fluffy
\nAnd the shearer knows this too.<\/p>\n
He’s paid not by the hour alas
\nBut by the volume, he
\nDelivers to the waiting scales
\nAnd so it has to be
\nHe carves us up like butter
\nAnd our Lesions won’t conjeal
\nThey fester and sleep disappears
\nIt seems they want their meal!
\nOur tails were hacked off sadly
\nAnd the stump has pained me so
\nThey punched a hole right through my ear
\nAnd boy wow! it took about a year
\nThey castrated me by using an old bent rusty blade
\nAnd I bled for days and I cried for nights
\nClearly I had no animal rights
\nMy young life of joy it left and ran
\nMonths of darkness then began
\nExcruciating that was sure
\nI have never been so truly sore
\nI hated men and humans, who left me so bereft
\nOf all my happy childhood there wasn’t one bit left
\nThe wonderment and rhapsody that I had so felt, I
\nStill could see the willows and the Buttercups that lie
\nBut inside of me was darkness
\nall the barefaced lies
\nExpressions and assertions
\nWhen the tiniest lamb dies
\nIn this world of the carnivore
\nThe drama does unfold
\nThis time there are no spotlights
\nJust a gantry chain so old
\nand clangy, its so frightening
\npegged here now, up side down
\nAnd there he stands
\nthe lawless one
\na great knife in his hands
\nHe strikes up where I’m hanging from
\nengaging with my throat
\nA flash.. A crimson mist cloud hangs
\nWorthy of some note.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sheepishly I look at the shearer and he at me Continue reading