The Modern Shepherd to His Flock

(News Item: Sheep will show best after they have had a small amount of beer)

COME, sheep, the Shropshire and the Welsh,
Leicester or South or Oxford Down;
The black of face, the white of race:
The hour has come to go to town!
Now is the time when all good sheep
Prepare for show or fair. . . .
The fight’s begun; oh, run, sheep, run —
Win ribbons for your hair!
Shake out your tails, my little lambs,
To whom the hand of Fame has beckoned!
Comb out your curls, my woolly girls —
Nobody wants a Second!
Lick up the salt, and quaff the malt,
If you’d be in the pink;
The gamboling lamb suggests, madame,
That ewes can take a drink!
So let your clarion bleat ring out,
And roll an eye that’s gay, not chilly;
And let them eat their words, the birds
Who say that sheep are silly!
And if you leap like proper sheep
To drain a proper dram,
We’ll take a Blue upon the ewe
As well as on the lamb!