Author: Jean Bentley
Written in response to ‘People and Crossing – Rhondda Crossing’ (c1952)
The sheep roamed the roads, don’t you know,
When I came here a long time ago.
They upset the bins
Spilt out ashes and tins
And left many a sad tale of woe.
You had to take ultimate care
To shut garden gates – for beware –
They’d chew up your plants
And trample your grass –
Your once pristine garden left bare.
In a flat where I used to reside,
The outer door had been left open wide;
I huffed disbelief
At the mutton, not beef,
That had gathered together in side.
I searched for a weapon – a broom,
This problem had left me in doom.
I prodded each one
Up the old ‘currant bun’,
Then cleaned out the foyer in gloom.
They cared not wherever they’d roam,
Down back lane or waste land they’d comb
For anything edible;
It was most incredible
How they’d always attack someone’s home.
Then one day – hip, hip, hip, hooray!
Legislation was coming our way.
The farmers were bound
To fence sheep around,
That problem has now gone away.