Upon a sun-kissed field of green,
Beneath a sky of fairest grey,
A flock of sheep, so quick and keen,
Did nimbly prance both night and day.
Such grace had ne'er before been seen,
Amongst a race so white and woolly,
The sheep did dance like love's young dream,
Around the sun-lit leafy gully.
No clumsy hooves bestowed their feet,
But ballet slippers, silk and sweet,
And round the back, instead of sheep dung,
Floaty pink silk tutus hung.
Across the fields the sheep did prance,
Engrossed most fully in their dance,
Across the hills and rivulets,
The flock rehearsed its pirouettes.
One day a dandy travelled through,
Bedecked in pink, from hat to shoe,
A limpèd wrist hung by his side,
As he wriggled his firm tush with pride.
He happened on the field by chance,
And stood and watched the flock's strange dance,
Then quickly he was on his way,
To ring his friend at the Royal Ballet.
His friend (who also liked to feel
A strong man's spoke thrust in his wheel)
Arrived at once and watched with glee,
The sheep cavorted earnestly.
'I'd like you all to come with me!'
He said, 'And join my company!'
So off they went, oh what a sight!
A flock of ballet sheep? What shite!
Ballet sheep? What have I taken?
No. That can't be right. I must be mistaken.
I knew I shouldn't have eaten