An ode to a goat

Who wouldn’t get on a boat

To cross the moat

Lest she wouldn’t know how to float


She didn’t care to drown

Even if it meant to incur a frown

From the one in the golden crown

In steel grey suits, never brown


People laughed, they stared

Not one whit she cared

Then one day, poorly she fared

To her friend, her heart she bared


“Keep courage,” her friend said

“You must keep earning you bread

“Smile more, talk, be not scared.

“One must after all lie on one’s own made bed”


“Yes,” the little goat thought

A long battle with herself she fought

Although my soul, it cannot be bought

All these years cannot waste for naught!


She lingered, unhappy, solemn but heed she did

All her qualms behind upturned lips well hid

Her pride further and further it slid

Believing her fate to be in stone writ

She was good, so she did as bid


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