12/25/2024
Some cheap entertainment for you, created with sleep deprivation and sarcasm. Merry Christmas Eve Eve from BCL! 🎅
‘Twas right in the middle of lambing season, when all through the farm,
The creatures were all stirring, meaning another night needing an alarm.
The heat lamps were hung in the jugs with care,
In hopes that healthy twins on good-bagged ewes would soon be there.
The newest lambs were nestled all snug in their straw beds,
While visions of future grand championships danced in their heads.
The iodine was ready, the pencillin and b complex on tap;
And all I really wanted was just a little nap.
When out on the barn camera there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the office couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the drop pen, I flew like a flash,
Tore open my notebook to see whether the ram or the ewe column would receive a tally dash.
Its wool channels were as white as the new-fallen snow,
Gave luster to the s**g that would continue to grow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But another water out and no sleep potential near.
With a jolt of caffeine, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that the last born one was either starving or sick.
More rapid than eagles a treatment course came,
As I looked at the medicine cabinet and called them by name.
Now, Banamine; now, Draxin; now Liquid Boost and Probiotics!
On to work, please and thank you, antibiotics!
To the rescue, quickly please and save a vet call.
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, sheep like to take a trip to the sky.
So up lambing until the morning chores time came due, the coursers they flew,
With a bucket full of grain and hands full of alfalfa too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard under the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Back in the pen, the lambs ran and jumped all abound.
The best one was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
A natural, pretty much the color of soot.
A crease down his back,
And the capability of setting a glass level on his rack.
His inverted eyes -- how they twinkled! His forerib how merry!
His cobra-like neck, a true outlier, almost scary!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The piece of straw he held tight in his teeth,
Dropped as he bounced away to the ground beneath.
The next one in the pen had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he nursed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, and potentially a dwarf,
Likely an eventual candidate for orf.
A look at his ear as he turned his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
The farmer spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And bedded all the pens; then turned with a jerk.
And laying his hand on his head as he looked around;
Wondered if there’s still a chance his sanity could be found.
He sprang to his feet, to his due date sheet gave a low whistle,
Only 30 more in this flush to go, as the hair on his neck began to bristle.
But I heard him exclaim, as another day ended and he turned out the light,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
