After all, the wool of a black sheep is just as warm.
quote by Ernest Lehman

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Sheep
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'
'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,
'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,
The faith I learned at my mother's knee
Is good enough for me.
Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she,
Hearing one sermon where she heard three,
And I read my paper on Sunday, instead
Of the Bible only. My mother said
I was a black sheep, when she saw
I strayed a trifle away from the law,
And didn't think everyone left in the lurch
Who happened to go to a different church;
But, still, in the main, her creed is mine,
And I don't want anything more divine.'
Yet his mother's mother was more austere;
She taught her children a creed of fear,
And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock,
She saw them straying away from the flock,
Just far enough
To get around places they thought too rough,
Like infant damnation and endless hell.
But his mother's mother's mother would tell
How her mother thought it was God's sweet will
To punish and torture a heretic till
They drove out the devil that made him dare
Think for himself in the matter of prayer
And faith and salvation. So we see how it is
If we look back over the centuries-
The creeds men learned at their mother's knee
When Salem witches were hanged to a tree,
And the pious dames flocked thither to see,
Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day;
And the bold black sheep who went straying away
From rut-worn paths in their search for God,
And leaped over the fence into pastures broad,
Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls,
Leading the race up to higher goals
And a larger religion; where man must find
God dwelling ever within his mind,
Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought,
And hell but the places where love is not.
A mighty religion that makes this earth
But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth
And the life beyond it, that is so near
Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: a whole world full.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Blanket
Let not vanish the oversea service
With wool soft,
As the flash of fire-worms.
On the blue blanket,
‘Made in Korea’ printed,
Made Korean hands immortal,
But ‘SHEEP’ written nowhere.
As December threatened with mist,
Blanket kept me warm.
My soul shuddered a night,
Shaken by the fever storm,
And I crept tired,
Under blanket refugee like,
Then a Paracetamol pill lulled me.
Under the woolly blanket,
Bloom dreams amorous
At silvered fragrant night:
Entangled tender branches,
Then did chit bud fresh,
Within the folds unruly
Of the blanket blue.
Simple sheep on hillock grazed,
Giving wool great,
Eternal changed:
Things simple so changed great.
Evil showers heavily,
Earth is frozen,
And need a blanket to warm up.
poem by Fabiyas M V

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In a distant land many years ago, there lived a black sheep. It was executed by firing squad. A century later, the grieving flock erected an equestrian statue in honor of the slain sheep that looked very nice in the park. In the years that followed, every time a black sheep appeared, it was executed so that ordinary sheep could practice sculpture.
Augusto Monterroso in The Black Sheep and Other Fables (1969)

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sheep
Sometimes I get so angry with the simple life they lead
The shepherds smile seems to confirm my fears
Theyve never questioned anything, theyve never disagreed
Sometimes I think they must have wool in their ears
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
When I was young they used to get me counting sheep
But the counting I did was all in vain
No when Im tired and Im trying to get to sleep
I count humans jumping onto trains
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
[influential guitar break]
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
song performed by by Housemartins

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bah, Bah, Black Sheep
Bah, bah, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry have I,
Three bags full;
One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.
poem by Anonymous English

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If you don't collect the sheep early, you get neither the sheep nor the wool.
Storm
Did the white lightening strikes, alarm you?
Was the Thunders plowing, too deep?
Breaking, near to the sound barrier
And bleaching, the wool, of our Black Sheep.
The pasture laid down, with burned edges
The water piled, in puddles, near to town
But the storms ravaging fever
Would not, in any way, come down.
Nothing to do to appease it
But perhaps, caress its weary brow
Biding our time 'til it's full recovery
The sheep, bleached white, in the barn,
Are safe now.
poem by Theodora Onken

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The Sheep
The Sheep adorns the landscape rural
And is both singular and plural—
It gives grammarians the creeps
To hear one say, 'A flock of sheeps.'
The Sheep is gentle, meek and mild,
And led in herds by man or child—
Being less savage than the rabbit,
Sheep are gregarious by habit.
The Sheep grows wool and thus promotes
The making of vests, pants and coats—
Vests, pants and coats and woolen cloths
Provide good food for hungry moths.
With vegetables added to
The Sheep, we get our mutton stew—
Experiments long since revealed
The Sheep should first be killed and peeled.
Thus, with our debt to them so deep,
All men should cry 'Praise be for Sheep!'—
And, if we happen to be shepherds,
'Praise be they’re not as fierce as leopards!'
poem by Ellis Parker Butler

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I write to you because once I worked in your shipping trade
The earliest publication date for the 'Baa, baa black sheep' rhyme or poem is dated 1744. Music was first published for 'Baa, baa black sheep' was in the early nineteenth century making it into a song for children.
The handsome Dictator who cries in debris and he wants a solace it seems?
Under the British management.
Yes Boss! The Buddha said; ' There is no place to hide from our past sins
Not even in the Sky or on Earth,
Somewhere else.'
For the solace I quote this nursery rhyme in gratitude;
'Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!
One for the master, one for the dame,
And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.'
*I dedicate this poem to the British Master E.B.Harrison, We worked together on a Libyan Tanker ship 'Um El Faroud' Twenty years ago.I remember the vessel carried crude oil from Benghazi, Tobruk and Tripoli to Italian ports.Oh! The heavy bags of wine we finished together, port of Siracusa & Augusta in Sicily.It's a fading dream and we're just old mile posts now.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

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The wool of a thousand sheep in good pasture at the least ought to yield fifty marks a year, the wool of two thousand one hundred marks, and so forth, counting by thousands.
quote by Robert Grosseteste

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0271 The Covering
It was not bright enough, not bright enough
to show itself to them, to all; to tempt
the world to bring it gifts; the coloured wool
would say to them look here, look here
it was not strong enough, not strong enough
to meet the heat, the cold; to venture
in the world’s bright gifts; the coloured wool
would warm it in the cold, the cold
it was not safe enough, not safe enough
to shield itself from hurt; to live its life
amid the strong, the weak; the coloured wool
would hide it from the hurt, the hurt
there was not care enough, not care enough;
the wool was knotted; slipped and slid
around its centre there; the coloured wool
is knotted here and here and here
there is not time enough, not time enough
to free the wool; the wool it would cast off
from off its centre there; the coloured wool
that never was the need, the need
there were not words enough, not words enough
to free itself; itself which never had the need
to bind itself in coloured wools; it did not trust
the bright, the strong, the safe, the care, the time.
poem by Michael Shepherd

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The Shepard
The kind, loving shepherd
Takes his hand, with the shears
And shaves his flock of sheep
One by one, fleecing them.
Gently, he makes the wool
To cover his raw skin,
Insulating his body
When the cold weather comes.
The sheep sleep in the snow,
Resting beside the fire.
The shepherd heats the pit,
Throwing wood on the pyre.
He cares for them, their needs;
He feeds them, gives water.
He tends to their living,
Paving their survival.
Then, late in ev'ry week,
When he becomes hungry,
He takes a soft sheep back
And slaughters it. Alone.
The other sheep do not know,
So, still, they will follow
Their generous master,
The kind, loving shepherd.
poem by Tim Stensloff

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The Friendly Beast
Jesus our brother kind and good
Was humbly born I a stable of wood
And the friendly beasts around him stood
Jesus our brother kind and good
I said the donkey shaggy and brown
I carried his mother up hill and down
I carried her safely to bethlehem town
I said the donkey shaggy and brown
And I said the cow all white and red
I gave him my manger for a bed
I gave him my hay for to pillow his head
I said the cow all white and red
I said the sheep with a curly horn
I gave him my wool for his blanket warm
And he wore my coat on that christmas morn
I said the sheep with a curly horn
I said the dove from the rafters high
Cooed him to sleep that he should not cry
We cooed him to sleep my love and i
I said the camel yellow and black
Thus every beast remembering it well
In the stable dark was so proud to tell
Of the gifts that they gave emmanuel
The gifts that they gave emmanuel
song performed by by Garth Brooks

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Playing Together
Black, black, black sheep;
White, white, white sheep;
And of the white cow and the black cow playing together,
For the muse of joy is now crowned with peace and love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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It is better to give away the wool than the sheep.
Upon the Road to Rockabout
Upon the road to Rockabout
I came upon some sheep -
A large and woolly flock about
As wide as it was deep.
I was about to turn about
To ask the man to tell
Some things I wished to learn about
Both sheep and wool as well,
When I beheld a rouseabout
Who lay upon his back
Beside a little house about
A furlong from the track.
I had a lot to talk about,
And said to him "Good day."
But he got up to walk about,
And so I went away -
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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