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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Related quotes
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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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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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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Verwoerd is Black
This poem is pregnant
with the black bloodshed of 1976.
This poem is constipated
with slavery of the poor.
This poem is the titanic of people’s hopes
sinking in the freezing ocean of democracy.
This poem is the enemy of the state,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is a hook that fishes
odd deeds buried behind black faces.
This poem is a mirror
that reflects odd unknown images
of stinking rich black men.
This poem is the voice of the angry dead.
This poem is a hammer to nail
in the brain of greedy politicians.
This poem is a database
of all black leaders.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is for you
black man who spits
at the sight of a white man.
This poem is for you
white man who owns a savaged land
full of secret mass graves.
This poem is for you
black and white who hug and kiss
to please Madiba.
This poem is for you
the poor, who sing:
freedom has finally come.
This poem is for you, who know no truth,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is for you
my brother & sister who have lost taste
of your mother-tongue
in the multiracial Model C schools.
This poem is for you
black mama, who has configured her black being
‘cause black is barbaric.
This poem is the anger of hunger.
This poem is for the unemployed voters
who find solace in booze, sex & crime.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
poem by Mpho Ramaano
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Shoots & Ladders
{their second video. the intro is jonathan (lead vocalist) playing the
Bagpipes. if you listen closely, you can hear birds in the
Background. it is rumored that this intro was recorded outside and
The fade-in was done by jonathan walking toward the mic on a hill}
Ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down
Nursery rhymes are said, verses in my head
Into my childhood theyre spoonfed
Hidden violence revealed, darkness that seems real
Look at the pages that cause all this evil
One, two, buckle my shoe
Three, four, shut the door
Five, six, pick up sticks
Seven, eight, lay them straight
London bridges falling down, falling down, falling down
London bridges falling down, my fair lady
Nick nack patty wack, give a dog a bone
This old man came rolling home
. . . this old man came,
Mary had a little lamb whos fleece was white as snow!
{he says it so weird that it sounds like,
and if we had to pick up the missing foot um in um in . . .}
Mary had a little lamb whos fleece was white as snow!
Baa baa black sheep have you any wool
Mary had a little lamb whos fleece was white as snow!
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full
Mary had a little lamb whos fleece was white as snow!
Baa baa black sheep have you any wool
Mary had a little lamb!
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full [white trash coon]
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
{also from the mouth of jonathan}
song performed by by Korn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Airconditioner
as i sleep the airconditioner inside our room
hums a tune to my ear
sounding very much like your
poem recently posted at PH
last night when i arrived late
from the office
Monotonous like the Rural Transit bus
that takes you daily from the house to the city
then back
Silly like a nursery rhyme a la Jack and Jill or ba ba black sheep
There is no philosophical content whatsoever like a very dry well
No water in here no pebbles just plain dust and sand
There is no color like the blue skies and black birds
No motion for wings no notion of movement like our emotions
There is no odor (there is a little bit of rotten fish and wilting leaves of
mahogany, like some fertile humus in mama's backyard)
Forget what i said. It is your poem my dear.
And i must love it.
It is like the hmmmmm of the airconditioner and
It is making me sleep soundly beside you. Anyway
I am here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suitcases Don't Have Wings
Small bags big bags
Black bags white bags
Suitcases hey hey hey
For work and for play
Crammed full of things
Suitcases dont have wings
White bags black bags
Complete with one-way tags
Dragging us down
Ever closer to the ground
All the time they sing
Suitcases dont have wings
Big bags small bags
That behind us we drag
Past present and future
We cram so much in n' gotcha
We've been forgetting
suitcases dont have wings
All bags every bag
That we painfully drag
Drop them at jesus feet
Cause all ur needs he'll meet
Suitcases hey hey hey
They get in the way
Drop them if you want in
Suitcases dont have wings
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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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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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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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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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 Ballad of the Black-Sheep
A black-sheep, from England, who worked on the run –
Riding where the stockmen ride –
He sat by the hut when the day’s work was done –
Lone huts where the black sheep bide.
“I’m tired of my life!” to his lone self said he,
“My girl and my country are both done with me!”
“I’m tired of my life!” to the wide scrubs said he –
“My girl and my country are long done with me!”
He took from a packet a portrait and curl –
Such things as the exiles keep –
And sadly he gazed at the face of the girl –
Lost girl of a lost black-sheep.
“I’ll go where there’s fighting and die there!” said he;
“My girl and my country are well rid of me.
“I’ll go where there’s fighting and die there,” said he;
“For heart-break and country that’s well rid of me!”
He rode with a thousand, he rode with the best –
Riding as bushmen ride –
Who’d ridden alone on the wastes of the West –
Wide wastes where the drought-fiends bide,
They rode as they’d ride to an up-country ball,
And the laugh of the black-sheep was lightest of all!
The road was a shambles, the hill was a hell –
Red rosed where the reckless ride –
And he with the foremost lay torn by a shell –
(Die hard where your father died!)
“the death of a rebel!” he laughed as he groaned –
“for the land that adoptee – the land that disowned!”
the death of a black-sheep! – they laugh as they groan –
for the lands that adopt and the lands that disown!
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you don't collect the sheep early, you get neither the sheep nor the wool.
Poets of Great Renown
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
and William Wordsworth were
eighteenth-nineteenth Century
British Poets of renown...
they collaborated in fine
lyrical ballad style, both
loving the rhythm and rhyme
of Shakespeare, his sonnets
and his plays.
In seventeen ninety six
Wordsworth and Coleridge met,
becoming 'poetry' friends,
but sadly with time their
friendship ended.
I quote just four lines from their
lengthy poem of imagination..
The Ancient Mariner.
'He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small
For the dear God who loveth us
He made ~ and loveth all'
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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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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Bring On The Night (Dream Chaser)
I've got nothing in my head, got a floor for a bed.
My future's at the bottom of a teacup
I've got half a pair of shoes and no time to lose.
I'm wondering when I'm gonna wise up
So, Fortune, shine your light on me (and my nose),
Cause I need some security.
You get a little bad luck and it grows and it grows.
I'm the black sheep of the family.
I've got half a pound of rice, a beard full of lice,
Political retrogression.
I've got a pocket full of dust, and eating is a must
If you want to make a good impression.
So, Fortune shine your light on me (and my dog),
Cause we need some security.
While other folks are living high on the hog.
I'm the black sheep of the family.
Don't talk to me about Society.
You got to play by the rules or pay the penalty.
Because there's nothing to choose between a handful of blues.
Double indemnity.
The whole world's wrong and my shadow's getting long.
I realize this song don't mean much.
I got an ache in my head. I want to go to bed.
Tomorrow, I don't have to wake up.
So, Wisdom shine your light on me (and my knees).
It's true what they say about familiarity.
There's nothing good this way, it's true what they say!
I'm the black sheep of the family.
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Menopausal Voyage!
Queen of the ship
Hides the telescope
And grumbles
It seems;
' Master!
Let me steer
And alter the course
As I sniff that
You're heading
For that abandon ship.
Why you seek
An another cook
While I provide you
Tasty food?
I too love birds
But there's no place to hang
A bird's cage in our tiny cabin.
Let another vessel rescue her.
Do you remember the past stormy weather
I climbed myself the Mast
And changed that burnt lamp for you!
Please realize the situation
As I too a Woman! '
*I humbly dedicate this poem for Womenfolk all over the World who fight for their fundamental rights!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Black Sheep Of The Family
Ive got nothing in my head, got a floor for a bed.
My futures at the bottom of a teacup
Ive got half a pair of shoes and no time to lose.
Im wondering when Im gonna wise up
So, fortune, shine your light on me and my nose,
Cause I need some security.
You get a little bad luck and it grows and it grows.
Im the black sheep of the family.
Ive got half a pound of rice, a beard full of lice,
Political retrogression.
Ive got a pocket full of dust, and eating is a must
If you want to make a good impression.
So, fortune shine your light on me and my dog,
Cause we need some security.
While other folks are living high on the hog.
Im the black sheep of the family.
Dont talk to me about society.
You got to play by the rules or pay the penalty.
Because theres nothing to choose between a handful of blues.
Double indemnity.
The whole worlds wrong and my shadows getting long.
I realize this song dont mean much.
I got an ache in my head. I want to go to bed.
Tomorrow I dont have to wake up.
So, wisdom shine your light on me and my knees.
Its true what they say about familiarity.
Theres nothing good this way, its true what they say!
Im the black sheep of the family
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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