Sheep Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Sheep know their limitations.
They do not attempt to fly
They do not examine the sky.
They go from munch to munch
With a sideways crunch
On permanent lunch.

Sheep are untroubled by
Existential matters
As to when they are going to die.

The highlight of their week
Is having a leak.

And have you noticed
That sheep have grotty bums,
Which is why they usually choose
To face their chums.

Left to grow like hedges,
Would flocks of sheep balloon,
Would they float off up to the moon
With their tight permed hair
And their black tap-dancing shoes,
Like little old ladies visiting the angels?
Grazing the clouds, white cumuli on stalks.