Food for Thought

Mother sheep said to her son,
"One day my lamb I will be gone
And as you now are nearly two
I think I need to talk with you.

I know it's always been your plan
To grow to be a fine young ram,
But think my son, is there a future
In a life that may not suit you?

Your dear old Dad I have to boast,
Became the finest prime, Crown Roast
And Auntie Maggie - bless her soul,
Retired a tasty Casserole.

Then of course, your cousin Di
Grew up to be a choice Lambs Fry,
While as for me - when I am able,
I'll get my legs on someone's table.

Your Dad and I had plans for you,
A Rack of Lamb, an Irish Stew.
Careers for sheep tend to be short,
Perhaps Lamb Chops would be a thought.

Now if you're very, very good
You could grow up to be a rug,
A lambswool blanket for a stroller,
Or think of this - a nice paint roller."

The little lamb cried out in glee,
"Oh mommy, that's the life for me."
And gambolled off beside his ma
To book in at the abbatoir.