A large wild Billy with crinkled horns
Stood sentinel on a rock,
Below him on the mountain side
Grazed his guarded flock.
Above them soared an eagle
The sentinel shook his head,
If looks could tell a story
He wished, that bird dead.
His hoofs beat his platform
His nostrils flaring wide,
Below him stood a mother goat
With her baby at her side.
The eagle paused in mid-air
It's wings were breathless still,
It seemed intensely gazing
At the flock upon the hill.
Then suddenly it swooped downward
Like a plummet through the air,
The great wild Billy, upon the rock
No longer stopped to stare.
With a snort, a leap, he cleared the rock
Then down the hill he shot,
Straight toward the mother goat
With her unsuspecting tot.
There was no time for fleeing
No time to get them hid,
But the wild mountain Billy
Stood over the helpless kid.
The eagle swooped above them
Then angry, in flight he arose,
The Billy goat had saved the kid
From the old eagles sharp toes.
But it's challenging screams of anger
As it soared to reach more height,
Had stirred the flock to action
And warned them of their plight.
The goats had bunched together,
Then around the hill they fled.
Not stopping once to look behind
Till they reached a protecting ledge.
But the wise old Billy, sentinel
Walked slowly in their wake,
Still watching the crafty eagle
Nor, from it his eyes did take.
Until they reached safety,
The flock that is his charge.
The wise old Billy sentinel,
Is always on his guard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem