Our little Jimmy’s gone to bed
But cannot go to sleep
So I suggest he close his eyes
And try to count some sheep.
“A novel innovation!”
Our precocious Jimmy drawls.
“These sheep of which you speak—
Are they out standing in the hall?”
I ponder this a moment.
It’s the kind of thing kids ask
And though I should be ready…
No, I’m not up for the task.
“Did Bo Peep screw things up again?
Are those her sheep out there?
She gets away with everything;
It really isn’t fair!”
I should admit defeat right now
And call his mother in.
Instead, I mutter this reply:
“I know. Men never win.”
“How many sheep did Bo Peep have?”
Young Jimmy’s lips pooch out.
“How will I know I’ve found them all
When there’s no more to count?”
“It’s not about the number…”
I begin, to no avail.
He fires a round of questions next
About their wagging tails.
“When all the sheep come wandering home,
Where else would Bo Peep find them?”
Young Jimmy asks, incredulous.
“They’d HAVE to be behind them!”
He talks so fast I can’t keep up;
By now my head is spinning.
But Jimmy’s staring into space
And I can see him grinning.
“Unless they’re in a slasher flick
And some guy hacked ‘em off!”
Young Jimmy’s getting wound up now;
He won’t be nodding off.
And me? Bad dreams will haunt me
Where some psycho doctor scams
Both Bo Peep and the FBI
In Silence of the Lambs.