SURRENDER SHEEP

 

Surrender sheep, give up your life,

     but not unto the butchers knife.

Government rules say you must die,

     in burning masses piled up high.

 

No longer are you quaint and sweet,

     they've seen the blisters on your feet.

In sterile suits the men will come,

      to shoot you with their hostile guns.

 

You cannot run for you are stuck,

       in fields of excrement and muck.

Your newborn lambs are doomed to death,

       as surely as your bleating breath.

 

No farmers arms to rescue you,

       dead dumplings in a muddy stew.

I'd like to walk your fields once green,

       to relish in a spring time scene.

 

Where peaceful valleys gently spread,

        now carpets of our lambs lie dead.

I yearn to hear your bleating voice,

        yet I cannot come, I have no choice..

I