We Are Sheep

Merciless and moody, the tempest rages above our heads,
Hurling spears of of fury at us, the far east sky a violent red.
Our coats are sodden, our heads bowed down low;
Our hooves trace narrow grooves in the boggy ground below.
But we do not weep, for we are sheep.

We mow the fields of this land like an army of combine harvestors -
It is our profit from the ground of which we are investors.
From dawn to dusk and back again, the grass submits to our hunger,
Our teeth mashing and gnashing, resolute and reliable: we do not blunder.
And we do not sleep, for we are sheep.

For millenia we have protected this sacred land,
Fighting tooth and nail against those who think it bland.
It is the livelyhood of us and our loyal vassals;
There is nothing we will not do, nothing too much a hassle.
Our promises we keep, for we are sheep.

Our numbers are rising as we subtly infiltrate society -
Even with more sheep than people in Wales we do it quietly.
One day we would like to expand our territory,
Maybe hop over to France on a P&O ferry:
One giant leap, for all of sheep.