Little Bow Peep

Though she was only a shepherdess, Tending the meekest of sheep, Never was African leopardess Crosser than Little Bow Peep: Quite apathetic, impassible People described her as: "That Wayward, contentious, irascible, Testy, cantankerous brat!"

Yet, as she dozed in a grotto-like Sort of a kind of a nook, She was so charmingly Watteau-like, What with her sheep and her crook; "She is a dryad or nymph," any Casual passer would think. Poets pronounced her a symphony, All in the palest of pink.

Thus it was not enigmatical, That the young shepherd who first Found her asleep, in ecstatical Sighs of felicity burst: Such was his sudden beatitude That, as he gazed at her so, Daphnis gave vent to this platitude: "My! Ain't she elegant though!"

Roused from some dream of Arcadia, Little Bow Peep with a start Answered him: "I ain't afraid o' yer! P'raps you imagine you're smart!" Daphnis protested impulsively, Blushing as red as a rose; All was in vain. She convulsively Punched the young man in the nose!

All of it's true, every word of it! I was not present to peep, But if you ask how I heard of it, Please to remember the sheep. There is no need of excuse. You will See how such scandals occur: If you recall Mother Goose, you will Know what tail-bearers they were!

MORAL: This pair irreclaimable Might have made Seraphim weep, But who can pick the most blamable? Both saw a little beau peep!