A Little Lamb had Mary


Mary had a little lamb,

Its fleece was white as snow,

Everywhere that Mary went,

The lamb was sure to go.


But that’s not the end of the story,

Some details were conveniently left out,

The little lambs top legal team,

Got him off on reasonable doubt.


The lamb had Mary at his side constantly,

Going everywhere he went,

He trained her to clean every trace of them,

If they had to cause an accident.


Mary was an expert in getting rid of evidence,

at the scene of his crimes,

no hoof prints or wool fibres were left,

just the natural dirt and grimes.


Whether it was a murder of a rival herd,

Or a collection of a golden fleece,

Poor old Mary was always left behind,

To clean up for the police.


The little lamb was a criminal mastermind,

One of the country’s mostly feared,

Famed for bloody violence and no compassion,

Even murderers hid when he neared.

Mary was the ultimate safety net,

The one that he heavily relies.

His fixer, his cleaner and his right hand man,

All his lose ends she ties.


But as the time and the maiming went on,

Poor Mary had her doubt,

The life of crime and cleanliness wasn’t for her,

She wanted to get out.


But all she had seen, heard and mopped up,

The little lamb wouldn’t let her,

When she asked him the lamb replied,

If she left, he would have to kill her.


A few weeks of collecting wool went by,

Mary’s feelings of dread heightened,

When she was hoovering her last eyeball up,

She suddenly felt enlightened.


Usually Mary was the quiet one in the shadows,

The one everybody ignored,

But this time she had to take action,

She had to take down her crime lord.


The plan and action had to be perfect,

The job going without a hitch,

Mary had to be in and out so quickly,

Planting evidence pointing to titch.



Titch was the biggest and baddest ram,

The Schwartzenegger of the sheep world,

But Mary had strands of his course black fleece,

She took the box where it lay curled.


She crept stealthily to little lambs luxurious stable,

In the nights darkest hour,

Quick as a flash his little head rolled off,

Then Mary started to thoroughly scour.


The crime scene was meticulously arranged,

Evidence perfectly planted,

Mary was in sunny Spain the very next day,

But Titch didn’t have his bail granted.


Mary Mary, quite contrary.

How does your garden grow,

With silver bells and cockle shells,

And pretty maidens all in a row.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s