Sheep on a Shelf

My sheep fell off the shelf.
They fell and bounced twice
But one landed by itself
Embraced by some mice
Where they tore and peeled
And searched and squealed
And my poor helpless sheep
That I bent over to keep.

Picking the poor creature safely
From the dirty ground below
I petted its head softly
And let our love, once more grow.
She bah-ed for me, and licked my hand
And then, nothing more
She lay still, nothing more to demand.

So I cradled the fair creature so fine
And wondered why she did die
But thought of nothing of mine
Only of what she did sigh.
Till I witness the other sheep in a line
Carrying themselves back to the shelf
I thought, how could this be
That they carried so strongly themselves
Back to that shelf under which, sat me.

This poor creature in my hand dead
And every other one living well
Why couldn’t one of them die instead
Than this one she, that bah-ed for me
Well, me’s thinking it be rough
And I sit hardly on lonely sheets
Thinking of my mind so tough
Not looking forward to future weeks.

Then an itch, carefree warmth
Simple heat, on reproach
as a breath felt by myself
The breath of my sheep approach
And in my hand she did move
and I cried my tears of love
For such a strong sheep she was
That even death, couldn’t contain her above

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