The Christmas Sheep

There once upon a barn was a Christmas sheep, its wool all fluffy and nicely sheen, perfectly managed and oh so clean

On the eve of Christmas four years passed the farmer would say “Lamb this year” and laugh, the farmer’s wife then to be cruel would remove the humble sheep’s wool, to make the husband a jumper so jolly and nice that when visiting the naked creature he would mockingly wear

One year the sheep planned and thought hard, how best to punish the tormenting pair, fates so fitting as to levy all that unfair in a blow so wonderfully pure

So with the wife’s sheers it cleaved every lock of her lovely hair, a drugged scotch to subdue the taunting mare

Then the farmer came to say his line and laugh, as the shotgun silenced his attempt to tease the grinning farmyard animal, as deep into the wounded man’s eyes it coldly stared

The papers recounted an angry wife shooting her hair cutting husband of many years, prison for her as to this day a cry of “It wasn’t me” makes the sheep cheer with joy

The husband claiming it was a wooly clad assailant that wielded the weapon that caused his wound, to the mad house he remains this day as every year a card with a hoof print he receives on Christmas day

The sheep now happy as many a patron does admire a wooly coat so bright and clean, the petting zoo so much nicer than that cold barn

The odd claim from a mistreating worker that the humble animal has threatened them with no less than a menacing baaa, coupled with a sinister stare, dismissed as foolish whimsy as that worker corrects thier ways so quick as to be reminded of this Christmas tale

2 thoughts on “The Christmas Sheep

  1. I side with the sheep.
    I have one of those Serta mattress counting sheep on my bedroom wall shelf and he is adorable. Feck the sell out parental sheep. They can write a novel, A Sheep Scorned….

    The baby sheep trump all.

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