Lambs - John E Blaise

On the last day of June
All the lambs leave the fields,
They follow each other like sheep.
Herded into cattle trucks,
Forced onto freight trains,
Queuing up in formal lines
Adorned with garlands of rosemary
Woollen lambs not lemmings
Waiting for the chop
Shaved, stripped bare and pink
Then ready for the ovens
Barbecued, stewed, fried, roasted,
Portions of scrag, loin, leg, shoulder.
And on the table a plate of cutlets
Proudly wearing chef’s hats.

John E Blaise