Sheep Launch Fashion Line, Refuse to Be Sheared
They strutted out in wool couture,
Declaring fleece was now mature.
Ma said, “Ain’t that our winter coat?”
Pa grumbled, “That’s my Sunday tote!”
Lou snapped pics for Sheep Vogue mag,
While Granny knit their runway swag.
The preacher gasped, “This might be sin,”
But wore a vest with sheepish grin.
No more clippers, no more fleece,
They claimed the wool as art and peace.
With collars high and shades askew,
They lamb-walked past the cows that moo.
Now buyers come from Paris street,
To bid on capes from muddy feet.
The flock’s in charge, they set the tone–
Wool’s not for warmth, it’s full-blown throne.
Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)
Last Updated on October 30, 2020 by Alan Nafzger