I miss the sheep
who used to wander
into our garden regularly
and scruffy grey sheep
who'd lie in doorways
of terraced houses
looking like they'd just
done a shift down the pit
and especially those mangy ones
who'd attack your shopping
up Asda's car park.
I miss the sheep
cropping the roundabouts
and many roadsides,
always dotted on hillsides,
or on a roof once
in Dowlais ( honest! )
and sometimes ruling the streets.
I miss the sheep
in black suspenders
and frilly nighties
(no, that was Woody Allen),
but we still chant
'1-0 to the Sheepshaggers!''
even though we're more likely
to be intimate with horses.