Never Let Your Sheep Go Out Unless He's With a Friend

Never let your sheep go out, unless he's with a friend For many sheep who walk alone come to a sticky end Because a woolly bleat for help won't reach the police Who are not resourced anyway to save a woolly fleece. What happens to them? Who can tell? The mystery is deep No one knows just what becomes of loosely roaming sheep But, tonight, if you go out into the town, it's sure You will not see a sheep about - they don't go anymore. So, your little sheepie friend, inside is best to keep And watch the telly or play games until he falls asleep There is no need to tie him up or otherwise restrained He will not miss the nightlife if you keep him entertained. It's strange to think that once before in days now long ago Sheep would fill the city streets, as they passed to and fro While taverns rang with sheepsong amidst woolly ovine cheers As tales were told of sheeps of old, 'cross tables full of beers. Yes, they were noisy, they were loud and they could be uncouth And flocks would often pick fights with some of the local youth But there was grace and strangely charm and also something dear In species meeting in a bar, to have a friendly beer. Those times have gone and, it may be, they do not come again And we will all be poorer, yet, in ways we can't explain Those happy sheep, those drunken sheep, the swaying homeward trot As they returned to country beds - they soon will be forgot.