The Flock of Sheep

Text:

© Grathy
The Flock of Sheep
Vocals and lyrics by Mary McGrath
2/2012-All rights reserved

As the sun’s
Droopy eye
Dips in the distance,
He lets the border collie out
To do his job.

His sheep have wandered
A little too far from the pen,
More curious than usual,
And the flock must be herded
Into some semblance of order.

The dog nods in agreement
And scampers ahead,
Gathering the bleating crowd
From their large quiet pastures.

The broad terrain in the distance
Peers back at them,
It’s flat face wild and untamed,
But to them,
It holds little interest.

The sheep scramble at first,
But soon are silent and comply,
The dog barking his commands
To keep them in line.

They are comfortable
In their sameness,
And rarely complain,
Preferring to play
Follow the leader,
Quietly collecting themselves
Into a spongy mass.

They are doing
What they’ve always done,
Listening to what the dog
Tells them to do,
And following command.

They don’t ask
If this is what is best for them,
For they are well-fed,
Eating the same thing,
Everyday sheltered
From the angry rains
And shorn neatly,
Into large cotton clouds.

It all seems quite safe…

Gradually they are funneled
Back into the pen
Where the gate is locked.

They are fattened.
As it must be a special day for them,
Like some sort of holiday,
All so plump and pretty.

Full with content,
They will sleep well tonight,

For little do they know
That tomorrow
The blade will gleam brightly
As they are led to slaughter.