If I fell in love with ewe,
My promised moo I'd eschew--
She'd helped me udder-stand.
But I've been with cud before;
It's not that cud I abhor.
I just go for lamb.

I've given up hart for ewe,
Now mutts abjured.
From the pen depart,
My "soo-eys" for now are deferred.

Stiff I thrust in ewe, no fleas,
No runts with hide
That I once pursued, so greased--
Off I did slide; injured
Was I, and it caused me pain,
Then I found a dam as my new love. . .
Wooly mane.

Shoat I hope to flee, now I
Wood-shove in loved ewe,
And that sheep will lie
With me, burning we two
With ardor in our domain--no sty
Is the paddock where we love, 'neath a wain.

So I mope when sheep bleats, "baaaaye,"
To become come lunch--stew.
And I'll weep but try
To not hurl what I knew.
It's right swell, my luncheon ewe!

Baa, baa, baa, baa, baa, baaaaaaa.