Bleak Is the Stable
Bleak is the stable and frosty the hay;
The old shepherd’s moaning, “Please go away!
Give me some quiet, for that would be bliss;
Messes annoy me—just look at all this!
Some other farmhand should milk the brown cow,
While I feed the lambs, the calves, and the sow.
Yes, I know my part, I know it right well:
Work is my worship, despite the rank smell.”
More Sunday’s Whirligig #244
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #8 at Poets United
Posted on December 15, 2019, in light verse, Poetry Pantry, Poets United, Rhyming poetry, Sunday's Whirligig and tagged bleak, bliss, frosty, give, hay, lamb, milk, moan, part, shepherd, stable, worship. Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.