Shawn Powell
02-15-2005, 10:04 AM
Most humans truly are like sheep
Wanting nothing more than peace to keep
To graze, grow fat and raise their young,
Sweet taste of clover on their tongue.
Their lives serene upon life's farm,
They sense no threat nor fear nor harm.
On verdant meadows, they forage free
With naught to fear, with naught to flee.
They pay their sheepdogs little heed
For there is no threat, there is no need.
To the flock, sheepdogs are mysteries
Roaming watchful round the peripheries.
These fang-toothed creatures bark, they roar
With fetid reek of carnivore,
Too like the wolf of legends told
To be amongst our docile fold.
Who needs sheepdogs?
What good are they?
They have no use, not in this day.
Lock them away, out of our sight
We have no need of their fierce might.
But sudden in their midst a beast
Has come to kill, has come to feast
The wolves attack; they give no warning
Upon that calm September morning.
They slash and kill with frenzied glee, their
Passive helpless enemy
Who had no clue the wolves were there
Far roaming from their Eastern lair.
Then from the carnage, from the route,
Comes the cry, "Turn the sheepdogs out!"
Thus is our nature but too our plight,
To keep the dogs on leashes tight,
And live a life of illusive bliss
Hearing not the beast, his growl, his hiss.
Until he has us by the throat, we pay no heed,
We take no note.
Not until he strikes us at our core will we
Unleash the Dogs of War.
Only having felt the wolfpack's wrath,
Do we loose the sheepdogs on its path.
And the wolves will learn
What we've shown before,
We love our sheep, we Dogs of War.
Russ Vaughn
2nd BN, 327th IN
101st ABN
Vietnam 65-66
Wanting nothing more than peace to keep
To graze, grow fat and raise their young,
Sweet taste of clover on their tongue.
Their lives serene upon life's farm,
They sense no threat nor fear nor harm.
On verdant meadows, they forage free
With naught to fear, with naught to flee.
They pay their sheepdogs little heed
For there is no threat, there is no need.
To the flock, sheepdogs are mysteries
Roaming watchful round the peripheries.
These fang-toothed creatures bark, they roar
With fetid reek of carnivore,
Too like the wolf of legends told
To be amongst our docile fold.
Who needs sheepdogs?
What good are they?
They have no use, not in this day.
Lock them away, out of our sight
We have no need of their fierce might.
But sudden in their midst a beast
Has come to kill, has come to feast
The wolves attack; they give no warning
Upon that calm September morning.
They slash and kill with frenzied glee, their
Passive helpless enemy
Who had no clue the wolves were there
Far roaming from their Eastern lair.
Then from the carnage, from the route,
Comes the cry, "Turn the sheepdogs out!"
Thus is our nature but too our plight,
To keep the dogs on leashes tight,
And live a life of illusive bliss
Hearing not the beast, his growl, his hiss.
Until he has us by the throat, we pay no heed,
We take no note.
Not until he strikes us at our core will we
Unleash the Dogs of War.
Only having felt the wolfpack's wrath,
Do we loose the sheepdogs on its path.
And the wolves will learn
What we've shown before,
We love our sheep, we Dogs of War.
Russ Vaughn
2nd BN, 327th IN
101st ABN
Vietnam 65-66