Tick, tick, tick tick flea

Said the sheep as she did her ablution

These pesky things get everywhere

Is there really no final solution

With just one haircut in the spring

Followed close, by our annual wash

We’re girls you know, it’s not the thing

How on earth can we ever be posh

If only we were human, we

Could bathe when we wanted, what bliss

We’d have bath time, spring, summer and autumn

But in winter we’d give it a miss

© John W Fenn 18-09-2009B