Insomnia

I'm wide awake and cannot sleep, That's when I started counting sheep. I began, with ten little lambs, And then with two, headbutting rams. Then three that graze the Vicar's lawn, And twenty more, the sheepshearer's shorn. While thirty from, down in the Glen, Where the sheepdog guards them, in the pen. And four called mutton, although not old, Alongside six, safe in the fold. Now I am feeling, rather sheepish, Roast lamb, is my favourite meat dish. So now I will count, something quite odd, It's easier counting, peas in a pod.