Humorous and funny Sheep poems and/or funny poems about Sheep. Read, share, and enjoy these hilarious Sheep funny poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems or see our other Sheep Poems.
Something I've always wondered about
A subject near and dear to my heart
Why don't sheep shrink in the rain
It's puzzled me right from the start!
A theory that sometimes is bandied about
Maybe their wool is non-shrinking
Sounds quite a bit far fetched to me
Someone's jazzing me I'm thinking!
Quite plausible if you think about it though
But whether it's true or it's not
Sheep I've talked to don't give a rat's ***
Damn wool is making them hot!
animals, childhood, funny, life, nature,
We had a black sheep
He used to follow us to school
He was such a fan!
You found a way to dismiss us, didn't you
Thought "we the people" really had no clue
The laws that congress passes
Apply only to the masses
May November find you feeling blue
You fixin' to get CLIPPED (clueless beast!)
Or dismembered for a mutton feast
Make a break from your breeders
Don't follow lyin' leaders!
Or you gonna' get FLEECED (at the least!)
***For Carolyn's Contest
There once was a leader called Blair
To the Iraqi war he declared
Like little lost sheep
None of his party did weep
Not one was found dead lying there
That night once again tossing and turning,
having very badly a sleepy yearning,
like little Bo Peep,
missing some sheep,
sheep hiding thinking its time for a shearing.
I often wonder slightly,
as I close the fridge door nightly,
is there more to know about produce,
so innocent next to juice?
Does the mayo fight the milk jug?
Does the ketchup dance out on the rug?
I swear I hear it faintly,
from the kitchen floors below!
Are the leftover pizza slices,
charging outrageous ticket prices,
to a vaudeville pickle show?
But everytime I creep,
to see what company bagels keep,
my eyes can only see,
a quiet scone,
and a dormant block of provolone!
I'll get the tea pot to tell it all to me...
deep, good night, humorous, language, sleep, word play,
The Latin words sopor quies
Sound just like Hebrew spor keves !
So to help you sleep deep,
We now tell you "count sheep !"
That pun's for a polyglot, yes?
angst, animals, fantasy, funny, visionary
Big bad black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, it’s mine,
I’m gonna keep it all.
Stay away from me,
If you don’t want to be harmed;
I’m not going quietly,
And I’m Armed!
Ceiling fan atop my head
Keep me cool while in my bed
Cooling air while I sleep
And shearing all my counting sheep
funny, how i feel, missing you,
One sheep, two sheep,
Three sheep, four,
These sleepless nights,
Oh hell here's some more,
It's one in the morning,
I'm still counting sheep,
Hoping that the next one,
Puts me out so far deep,
For I am ready to be,
Where my eyes are shut,
So I can get to that moment,
And out of this rut,
By dreaming about good times,
When you are always around,
It's like your right here,
What is that sound,
Well hell it's my alarm,
Didn't even see what’s true,
Because those damn sheep stopped me,
From dreaming about you!!
Black sheep peeps pushing bush beside deep pool,
shows long tongue, strong teeth on my way to school.
It eats dark green grass
no less, but huge mass.
yet offers no wool and always makes me fool.
A Brian Strand July 6
Contest by Brian Strand
There’s nowt so canny and nowt so deep
As the musings of the highland sheep
They’ll talk of this and talk of that
Of what they ate and where they shat
Or ponder on life’s mysteries
Like, is the grass beneath the trees
Much finer than the stuff that grows
Down beside the old hedgerows
© John W Fenn 18-09-2009
I feel like a black sheep in a group hug.
Let me back up to the onset of my story.
I might have doctored my resume - I shrug.
I fear that they’d sight my age a bit hoary.
I’m happy as a minority amidst the lovely sheep.
Please don’t compare me to a wooly-coated wolf.
I’ll work my magic, soon as, i’m released from peeps.
They’ll be sure to respect me with a friendly game of golf.
I’d wag my tail with happiness if I could move.
My smile would be genuine, if released from the crowd.
My sleeves would roll, I’d part this sea with love.
Oh help me, this bleating echoes rather loud!
Eve Roper’s poetry contest
animals, art, funny, me, me, drug,
I once had a sleeping problem so bad
I tried every drug my Dr had
so a friend says to me
away you must go and flee
and fall asleep
so to the country I went
used my last of money I spent
found a farm
and I swear I did no harm
I counted the sheep
with no noise or even a peep
I counted the whites
then the blacks
this should take away my plight
and give me my sleeping nights back
then I counted the spotted
and even the dotted
but it did not work
for I feel that they plotted
I wrenched my shirt til it was all knotted
cried so hard til shepherd heard me
he gave chase
all the way to my place
where he knocked me out
and put me to sleep in a fast pace
humor, passion, sleep,
Young Theodore loved nothing more than sleep
Never once had he ever counted sheep
But when he hit puberty
He got excited, you see
Fell for a stripper named 'Little-Bo-Peep'
allegory, animals, funny,
Sheep they fear the dark,
Their shepards are the light,
Yet straying all alone
Get lost within the night.
When light shines from the road,
Mistaken for a star,
The sheep stands waiting still,
And gets flattened by a car.
The moral of the story is
That shepards tend the flock,
For sheep are really dumb
They need watching round the clock.
See, sheep can't tell the dfference
Between headlights and the stars,
That's why so very many
End up flattened under cars.
fun, happy, humorous,
I was just like little bow peep
Who kept trying to count sheep
I tried to close my eyes
Then got a big surprise
Counting sheep had put me to sleep
Why don't sheep shrink in the rain
It's puzzled me for as long as I've had a brain
Some dispute that
By the way I act
Obviously, their wool is non-shrinking, that's plain!
My head hangs low above the sink,
Ha, no, unlikely what you think!
True, there were times excessive drink
Did see the gut, recoiling, shrink.
Nay, far more happy time and place
Would best describe the here and now,
But weeds have overrun the fields;
It’s time to put the hand to plow.
’Tis head that’s needing to be shorn,
A humming scythe across the glade,
Or shearing sheep on frosty morn.
My tool of choice: the zero blade.
No victory until I die,
The onslaught merely staved, pushed back,
And when again the threat draws nigh,
My trusty blade will mount attack.