A Mocking Flock

As I stand upon the country lane

Beyond the hedge is the flock of pain

With a furtive glance back to the farm

My heart is racing, but still I'm calm

With my master nowhere to be seen

I could start work, as I'm very keen

My coat is shiny and my nose is wet

Now into the field I need to get

Across a boggy ditch I need to dredge

To find the gap that's in the hedge

And then I'm through to make my stand

Upon the lambs lush pasture land

Disdainful eyes look upon this collie

Mocking bahs at my brazen folly

Amongst the flock there's an air of scorn

There's no reverence, I feel forlorn

I try to gather, but they disperse

I try a bark, a doggy curse

If they could they'd laugh to mock

One dog; no chance, against the flock

Then upon the lane the sound of a familiar pick-up truck

And if I could curse I'd say what the f..., such bad luck!

As it stops and idles beside the field's gate

My master calls me, but I'm sure he won't berate

Back in the warmth of home I now reflect

That those damn lambs have no respect

But no matter, for it's surely time for lunch

And I'll be back, that's my vengeful hunch