aha, the 80s return, bring on the veggie agitprop poet

but seriously this works very well until the last three stanzas; the third
to last knd of unravels as the external moral eye asserts its gaze and the
last but one and the last one itself are to my mind Walter de la Mare gone
Northern regional and seriously detract from the poem.

I enjoyed this though, even though I've just been very rude about it!

matt


----- Original Message -----
From: "Steve Rudd" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: 11 August 2001 21:49
Subject: New Sub: Little Lamb


| LITTLE LAMB
|
| Little lamb, who made you?
| Little lamb, who made you?
| Did pantheistic, universal breath
| Inspire your life for this sad death?
| Little lamb, who made you?
|
| Little lamb, who killed you?
| Little lamb, who killed you?
| Faceless men in little hats
| Calculating, Whitehall twats:
| Little lamb, who killed you?
|
| Little lamb, who shipped you?
| Little lamb, who shipped you?
| Over land and over sea
| Crammed by bars, and never free
| Little lamb, who shipped you?
|
| Little lamb, who froze you?
| Little lamb, who froze you?
| Under cold blue neon glare
| The supermarkets claim their share:
| Little lamb, who froze you?
|
| Little lamb, who left you?
| Little lamb, who left you?
| Dumb in mud and misery
| A victim of hypocrisy:
| Little lamb, who left you?
|
| Little lamb, what taints you?
| Little lamb, what taints you?
| Your terror-bleat can never say
| But they'll still kill you, anyway:
| Little lamb, what taints you?
|
| Little lamb, who'll miss you?
| Little lamb, who'll miss you?
| On Sundays, they'll still praise their Gods
| Then eat their flocks, disgusting sods:
| Little lamb, who'll miss you?
|
| I will miss you: even if I am the only one:
| This evening, as me and the cat sit out the hearth-embers,
| Dozing at the end of a summer night's fire, its last spark;
| Feeling the unaccustomed autumn cold:
| And the white-woollen ghosts outside the window
| Jostle, and steam their silent breath into the dark.
|
| Ah yes, the animals sense the guilt:
| Oh, that hooves should raise, point, and accuse;
| Let trembling throats bellow an indictment,
| Lest we forget: no, they shall not grow old.
|
| STEVE RUDD
|
| PS Having read JISC's auto email I am thinking of changing my name to
Noack
| Repro. Well, it worked for Nosmo King. Also how do I get onto the list
| about research into Mopeds?
|
|