Schaf ist besorgt. Es gibt so viel
Geflucht dahier und auf der Ziel-
gerade dieser Meute
dünkt es sich leichte Beute.
Wer schirmt es, wenn die Welle
erreicht der Koppel Schwelle?
Schaf ist verwirrt. Es äugt umher,
wägt Aufstand, Streik und Gegenwehr
es ruft nach Schäfer, Recht und Zucht
vielleicht nach Gott gar – ? Doch dann sucht
ein Fremdschaf heischend seinen Blick –
Und davon gibt es kein Zurück.
Tollllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll !
(Tolllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll .)
Spi nnnnnnnner. ; )
(Hat meine Omi auch immer zu mir gesagt.) Aber weil ich mich bekanntlich NIE wiederhole:
Tolllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll !
(((Nachtrag:)))
Tolllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll !
Neuer Samstagmittags-Sport: die Kommentarleiste zuballern!
Ein Schäflein schafte toll herum,
und hat nur mit der letzten Kraft
das Ausrufzeichen noch geschafft.
Nun liegt‘s erschöpft im Koben
und läßt allein das „o“ im Traum
mit Schlaf im Aug und vorm Maul Schaum
auch noch das „t“ ein bißchen loben.
Na, wenn das mal kein Ansporn sei
für weitre kleine Reimerei.
Von der Wollust. Das Schaf sprach: “Ich? Ein Herdentier?
Ich glaube, das ist nicht mein Bier.
Mit andren Schafen rumzugrasen
und mit Geblök sich aufzublasen,
in großer Herde, dies Gedränge!
Viel lieber ganz allein ich spränge
frei von Schäfer und dem Hund
so wie ein bunter Vagabund.
Doch was, wenn mich die Wollust packt,
so ganz allein? Das wär beknackt.
Und wenn ich Lust hab aufs Vermehren?
Ich bleib` – und lass mich nackich scheren.”
______________________________________
ganz frisch gereimt… 😉
Lo
Ganz frisch, und frei und sogar nackich dabei, Herr LO! ; )
Sex sells… ;-))
Wem sagen Sie das… ; ))
Ihr Schaf hat mein Herz grade angenehm erwärmt.
Schaf dankt!
und düngt vor Glück…
Viel Schaf, viel Ehr.
*knickst*
Viel Schaf ist ja schön.
Viel Beischaf ist noch schöner.
Wer würde Ihnen da guten Gewissens widersprechen wollen?