T'was the night before Friday when all through the suite, not a creature was speaking,
not even a cheep.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of peacocks danced in their heads.
I in my nightgown, sat down with a cap (night cap that is) and settled myself in for a long evening nap.
When out in the park there arose such a clatter, I stood from my chair to see what was the matter. A goat stood, right there on the lawn and without much ado
he told me what made him sadder.
His friends had been shorn without any warning 
and their fleece lay about as if we were suffering global warming
I dreamed of the spinning I could do with that fleece but was called by the children who give me no peace
The goat went away to another friend and the fleece was left for someone else to defend.
(perhaps the very nice dulcimer man who let the boys take a pic with him and entertained us at lunch on the wharf)
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