Softest warmth and cosy comfort
Fluffy, hirsute, light as dusters
Fills the distaff during hours,
Lived and lost but won for welfare.
Warp and weft bring amplest texture.
Surely gained through timely tenure
Fixed to loom with bright inflexion,
Wear and tear give sweet protection.
Lambs must offer their safe haven,
Bleating sorrowful, disclosed
After shearing and the shepherd
Leave their tender skin exposed.
Surly season will turn better,
Once the sun can lose its fetter:
As the flower season blossoms
All the songbirds bust their bosoms.
Sound and colour bring us pleasure,
Happy we, to gain such treasure.
When the charming era falters
Then our need for soft warmth alters.
Yet the sheep carouse at leisure
Bleating songs of summer measure
Growing fells of softest treasure
Until fall brings chill displeasure.
People in their safe snug havens
Might soon sip the warming potions,
Never think of outward motions.
Surely sheep will grow their woollens.
Though the wet appeals for wellies
And the fierce chill calls for woollies
They will ride the tides like lilies,
White and pure, in groups and bevvies.
Easter brings the great fierce slaughter,
Every human shifts to traitor.
But the sheep greet their vocation,
Bleating shrill in salutation
As the lambs of gods meander
Through the pastures of vile slander
Even to their endless fate
Giving wool to gain a mate.