Sean is not a sheep
to be shorn.
Don't be woolly-headed, mate.
Put down that gun before it's too late.
Lamb to the slaughter?
You hadn't ought to be using that gun
in the presense of your son.
Don't shoot Sean, please
be careful.
Oh, ****
Sean's shot.
Surely not?
(Using a staple gun with children about can be too hazardous)
No sheep were harmed in the making of this poem.
And Sean lives on....
Love the light touch in your current crop of words. Sounds as though life must be good. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
nice work, very humorous too, i enjoyed reading this lighthearted poem :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sean is shorn and fleeced all in one go.Maybe thats why he has a sheepish look on his face. Nice one that I missed a while back. Sid.