Go, go, go, go, transhumant sheep
Shorn of your reason for living,
May the toes of your feet not fester or curl
From inertia and factory farming
While the coarse sceptics cry “You are rosy-eyed twits
And your dreams have no possible function”,
the road to the pasture is buried in flak
and the herdsman is lost in corruption
Shepherds who roam with their flocks on the hills
See something commuters are wanting
Long days on the hike with no shelter or rest
Give their minds an extra dimension
There is joy in the work be it ever so cold
and the coldness is not of the boardroom,
and I’m counting the rhymes as I gaze at the stars
With the beat of my heart an oration
Oh I know I sound sad, and impossibly mad
To suggest we should turn the clock back,
But I’m not saying that – only look what you’re doing
By killing the seeds of creation
“We can’t feed the world”, say executive suits
Who calculate all by their profits,
“You are crushing the world” moan the ghosts of the whales
Cleaned right out of the ocean
“Ridiculous twaddle”, yell the sleek CEOs
As they lust over loot they will gather
“Suck it up, get a life, we need oil, we need strife
so the fewer can prosper the higher.”
The birds of the air and the sheep of the field
Run screaming from our depredations.
Go, go, go while you can, till barbed wire ends your plans
And no grass is left on the mountains.
Maybe I could set this to music, like Phil Ochs.
Carpathian Sheep Walk 