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There is this really cool guy I want to introduce you all to, I've only known him for a few days, but it already feels like magic. His name is William Blake. He has just swept me off my feet. He even wrote this wonderful poem about me, called 'The Lamb.' What's that? Did you say that some pretentious stupidfaces told you that the lamb in the poem is clearly referring to Jesus Cristo? WRONG. Think about it. I am the most lamb-like person you know. I enjoy skipping through fields and eating flowers. I love wearing wool sweaters. I really enjoy the movie Babe (especially that song the farmer sings to Babe when he is sick. If I had words to make a day for you...). I like cheese, which is made from sheep's milk, which is a lamb's central diet staple. When I was younger Lamb Chop was my fave, and when my mom gave away my stuffed Lamb Chop, because she thought I was "too old," I cried. My patronus is a lamb. So that is MY poem, written about ME. Get yo facts straight, Romantic Period scholars.
whoa, whoa. First of all, a lamb is technically any sheep younger than a year old, and they are off of their mother's milk long before they are a year old. Approximately 60 days after they are born, actually. Then their main staple is yucky pellet things that I don't think you'd enjoy eating. hahahahahahhaha Second, I think you should try halter training or washing a lamb before you decide you love them so much. hahahaha they are disgusting. I'm sorry, the Animal Science knowledge in me took over there for a minute. Now that I'm back in control, this is all I have to say:
ReplyDeleteOh hot damn, this is my lamb.
p.s. I miss Darcy. ;(