filk_of_belac (filk_of_belac) wrote,
filk_of_belac
filk_of_belac

Sheep with Swords

Title: Sheep with Swords
Mythos: Politics, I guess
May be sung to the tune of: Cows with Guns
Owner of the original: Dana Lyons
Written on: Summer 2006



Fat and docile, fluffy and white
They don’t do nothing, they don’t even bite
Sheep are bored

They eat to grow, grow to die
Die to be eaten in Shepherd’s Pie
Sheep’s reward

Nobody thunk it, they thought sheep were docile
No one imagined the great sheep apostle
Sheep the Lord

He hid on the moors, he studied and crammed
He loved William Wallace, a revolutionary lamb
Sheep learned lore

He spoke about justice, but nobody stirred
He felt like an outcast, alone in the herd
Sheep ignored

He baa’ed we must fight, no more we’ll be bullied
Sheep gathered around, ‘cause things were getting wooly
Sheep rapport

But then he was captured, by two shepherd thugs
They cut off his wool, for to make into rugs
Sheep decor

He was a scrawny lamb, a bit of an eyesore
No one suspected he was wielding a claymore
Sheep with swords

They came with their sharp shears, ‘cause he looked so forlorn
He kicked for the groin, he stabbed with his horns
Sheep can gore

Jumped over an oxcart and ran for the door
Knocked out the shepherd, left him flat on the floor
Come sheep hordes!

He picked up a bagpipe and jumped up on the clover
We are free roving ovines, our bondage is over

We will fight for Ovine freedom
And hold our horned heads high
We will run free with the mountain goats, or die
Sheep with swords

They broke down the clanholds to a pile of logs
Tied up the weavers, chased all the dogs
Sheep aren’t bored

Six hundred Scotsmen, lying there churned
They’d had the sheep once, now it’s their turn
sheep aboard

Black smoke rising, by the side of the road
Twelve looms a’burning, they can all dress in woad

We will fight for Ovine freedom
And hold our horned heads high
We will run free with the mountain goats, or die
Sheep with swords

The Parliament said, let’s go out and parley
But if they won’t deal, we’ll send in the army
Sheep accord

The townspeople gloated, they lined up at the shops
Tomorrow at noon, half price on lamb chops!
Sheep restored

The sheep were surrounded, but their hope didn’t wilt
They polished their claymores, they folded their kilts
Sheep at war

The order was given to turn sheep to mutton
Enforced by ten thousand of Scotland’s brave gluttons
But on the horizon surrounding the farmers
Came the deafening clang of chickens in armor

We will fight for Ovine freedom
And hold our horned heads high
We will run free with the mountain goats, or die
Sheep with swords
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