Where Is The Lamb?
Little Lamb, who made thee go away?
Whither hast thou gone?
I, Memes, who gavest thee life, and bid thee feed
- By the stream and o'er the mead -
lookest for you from dawn to night
and wishest the the softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I shall tell thee,
I, Memes, made thee, twas me.
I honestly, don't know, where Daisy has run off to. Sheeps need a sheephereder, and that is the service I did provide for her, for this the short glamorous time of the Memesian reign.
Last think I heard from Daisy, she sent me an email that she was going on vacation, and something about how the people at her work were conspiring agaisnt her, and then, nothing.
She just disappeared. She is just a little lost shep now, I guess. I picture her out in the rain, all cold and shivering and sniffling. If I could, I would give her a little cyber tissue.
So, as we mourn our loss, I will just leave you with this sweet little poem. It brings tears to my eyes, whenever I think of Daisy:
Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still a-fleeting.
Goodnight, sweet lamb.
Whither hast thou gone?
I, Memes, who gavest thee life, and bid thee feed
- By the stream and o'er the mead -
lookest for you from dawn to night
and wishest the the softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I shall tell thee,
I, Memes, made thee, twas me.
I honestly, don't know, where Daisy has run off to. Sheeps need a sheephereder, and that is the service I did provide for her, for this the short glamorous time of the Memesian reign.
Last think I heard from Daisy, she sent me an email that she was going on vacation, and something about how the people at her work were conspiring agaisnt her, and then, nothing.
She just disappeared. She is just a little lost shep now, I guess. I picture her out in the rain, all cold and shivering and sniffling. If I could, I would give her a little cyber tissue.
So, as we mourn our loss, I will just leave you with this sweet little poem. It brings tears to my eyes, whenever I think of Daisy:
Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still a-fleeting.
Goodnight, sweet lamb.