O’er the misty mountains and vales verdant,

Our mirthful sheep make merry with glee,

They graze, hop and run hither-thither,

Whilst we both watch them standing yards apart,

Don’t seem so uptight, let our eyes meet,

Lemme strike a melody with bagpipes,

Mo luaidh! Come, let’s dance ‘til we drop.”

“The sheeps yonder would run far from our sight,

Oblivious to the danger that lurks,

Once we’re lost in the world of love games,

An wolf uncanny could make them his meal,

Mo luaidh! Matters of the heart can wait,

Once we lead the sheeps safely to the barn,

Fondly let’s exchange bucolic love songs.”

***

Poetry Style : Eclogue

This poem was written for prompt 3 Tale-a-thlon challenge held by Penmancy.  It was first published here.