I softly went a huntin'
To find some softly sheep,
I cannot count without them
To lull me back to sleep.
‘Where art thou little fluffy? '
I called its nicky name,
And taken by the surplus
A hundred bleaters came.
I'll never count them all in time,
I worried like my pal,
I only wants a little kip
Not like my Auntie Val.
She likes to sleep for England
And all the English men.
Sometimes she sleeps with 40
And sometimes only 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem