A local news story today. Hope they show up…
Oh the rustlers rode to Ringinglow
Where the sweet alpaca graze
Out on Sheffield’s dangerous wild frontier
With their mild, long-eyelashed gaze
When they swung their lassos high and wide
Each graceful neck to snare
In the wild blue hills of Ringinglow
Did those dirty varmints care?
Now a Jealous man and his Jealous wife
Are both feeling quite bereft
In the lonely hills of Ringinglow
There are no alpacas left.
So look out for them on market days
For they may have traveled far
But the wild blue hills of Ringinglow
Call to Raymon and Olgar.
What a gol’durned shame it was for sure
On that bitterest of days
When the thieves rode up to Ringinglow
Where the meek alpaca graze
Tom Juniper Poetry 