The Goat And I
The Goat and I
Each sunny day upon my way A goat I pass; He has a beard of silver grey, A bell of brass. And all the while I am in sight He seems to muse, And stares at me with all his might And chews and chews.
Upon the hill so thymy sweet With joy of Spring, He hails me with a tiny bleat Of welcoming. Though half the globe is drenched with blood And cities flare, Contentedly he chews the cud And does not care.
Oh gentle friend, I know not what Your age may be, But of my years I'd give the lot Yet left to me, To chew a thistle and not choke, But bright of eye Gaze at the old world-weary bloke Who hobbles by.
Alas! though bards make verse sublime, And lines to quote, It takes a fool like me to rhyme About a goat.