Once upon a time, two giant moufflons,
Based on their strength and principles,
Made a bet about the flock leadership.
On this they went up a high mountain,
Making their way among the jagged rocks,
Till they came to the brink of a precipice
Fathomed a whole three thousand feet.
Then one of them turned round and moved
Backwards until his rear hooves were two-thirds
Of their size outside the edge and beckoned the other
To do the same move. The rival dared not.
Then the winner said, 'The worth flock head
Looks up to the azure sky above, or climbs down
To the green valley beneath, or hops away
Towards the eight ends of the deeps and peaks,
Without any change coming over his spirit and breath.
But now the trembling of your muscles
Appears in your dazed mind and
Protruding eyes. Your inward feeling of peril
Is extreme. You do not deserve to head our flock.
Always,
Deborah
Love ya!
Jane