A poem about the trouble with telling lies.
The boy, so young was he,
Charged to watch the sheep.
Lonely boy, no friends you see,
So bored, he fell asleep.
He awoke and found the same;
Sheep still grazing. Then to his shame
He wondered, how he could have some fun,
Stir up some interest. What tale could be spun?
Into his head an idea sprouted,
To liven up the day.
“A wolf! To the village he shouted.
They came. He said the wolf had gone away.
The boy enjoyed the frenzy and the fuss,
But then was soon alone
To watch the flock. He began to cuss,
Then called his father on the phone.
“The wolf he’s back, the sheep have fled”
He said, come quick.
His father up the hill he sped,
But thought, “may be a trick”.
The boy he cried, and said “it’s true
A great big wolf was prowling.”
He’d thrown a stone, his aim was true
And the wolf had gone off growling.
An hour passed, the boy he shivered.
He heard a rustle and held his breath.
The wolf was watching, muzzle quivered.
The boy was scared to death.
He called and called and called some more
But no one ever came.
He’d called too much, his calls ignored,
No one believed his claim.
The wolf perused the menu.
What should he eat tonight?
A sheep, a lamb, or even you?
He asked the boy. And then he took a bite.