Little Bo Peep Show

She let the wind shepherd her skirt.

He pulled the wool from over his eyes, his head from the dirt.

She wielded her crook. And yielded a peep.

It looked like Miss Little Bo was missing more than her sheep.

Every time the bleating lost winds blow,

he sees a Little Bo Peep show.

He’ll spin a yarn though he’s not into lamb.

But with a rack like that he’s in a mint jelly kind of jam.

He laid off the horn in a condiment fight.

Then all of a sudden, he wants to eat mutton tonight.

I’m just a ram. It’s always been ewe.

No sir, no sir, no, your bag won’t do.

She’ll have him shorn down to the wood.

This tail will be cropped. Her guard had been dropped.

She’ll fleece him for good.