I wandered to the farm one sunny day,
With a bag of feed I'd bought on the way.
A goat appeared with a gleam in its eye,
I thought, "Just some nibbling—oh, how sly! "
I held out the feed, it sniffed and chewed,
Then turned to my sleeve like it had a mood.
A nibble! A tug! My shirt nearly flew!
This goat had ambitions I never knew.
I tried to step back, I tried to retreat,
But it followed me quick on four wobbly feet.
A headbutt here, a nuzzle there,
It didn't care that I gasped in despair.
My hat was next—oh, it disappeared!
My sock got a nibble! I almost smeared
Feed on my jeans in the wild goat chase,
While it grinned at me with a leafy embrace.
I froze, I laughed, I finally gave in,
This goat was the king, and I'd never win.
It's not just the feed—it wants it all,
Clothes, hats, my lunch… it's having a ball!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem