I SEE the Boston papers say Vermont should tread the woolly way; Their columns shout in accents deep— "Wake up! and to go raising sheep; With bleating flocks your hills endot And muttonize each vacant lot; Time was, Vermont Merinos stood Against the world, and so they should, And then you all went off to sleep— Wake up! and raise a million sheep." It's natural—and it does no harm— For them to tell us how to farm; This raising sheep, like raising Cain, Is easy for a city swain; The Boston farmer knows what's best For folks down East and folks out West; He's thought it through with special care 'Twixt Young's Hotel and Harvard Square, But still he hasn't had to keep A lantern lit for sickly sheep. He hasn't had to dodge and duck Before a serious-minded buck; He's never "sheared" for twenty days And got no pay but pork and praise; He's never shortened horns or tails Or cut a kicking cosset's nails; He's never fussed with neighbor Brown Because his fence was always down; He's never waded where 'twas deep And washed and ironed a hunderd sheep. I knew a farmer near Vergennes Who swapped his Dorset flock for hens; He traded even, sheep for hen, And felt so good he cried Amen! "No more around the kitchen stove," He said, "will wobbly lambkins rove; No more at sunrise will I pull From angel sheep their mortal wool— Oh! I'm so glad that I could weep, I'm free from sorrow, sin and sheep." I knew a farmer's wife that said "You'll find me at the sheep barn dead Some April day, and when you do, You'll see my body broke in two; I always know 'twill happen when I throw myself acrost a pen To make a mean old sheep be good And own her baby as she should— Oh! what a cup of tea I'd steep If John would only sell his sheep." You see this business has a side The Boston farmer hasn't tried; No doubt he knows how cutlets taste With little peas and spinach graced, But has he ever struck a lick At doctoring foot-complaint or tick? Or has he ever sold a pelt For what would buy jest sixteen smelt? I guess this city plan will "keep" Until there's more demand for sheep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TURNSTILE by WILLIAM BARNES EARTH'S IMMORTALITIES: FAME by ROBERT BROWNING SILENCE SINGS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE APOLOGIA PRO POEMATE MEO by WILFRED OWEN STANZAS: IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALCOVE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |