Baa, baa, white sheep has the softest wool
trots into the shearing pen unaware.
Snip, snip, the fleece is off
on its way to me.
Wash, wash, must get out the dirt and twigs
and other sheepy little things.
Comb, comb, set the fibers straight
untangled now and ready for the wheel.
Treadle, treadle, push the pedals,
round and round the wheel now turns.
Whirr, whirr, the fibers drawn out
in a line, so soft and white.
Spin, spin, twist it up to
make it strong and not too thin.
Dunk, dunk, in the pot of dye
to turn my white yarn berry red.
Hang, hang it up to dry and wait,
its journey is not over yet.
Knit, knit, round and round
and round some more to make a sweater
Warm, warm enough to block
the winter's chill.
Wrote this poem in English a few weeks ago, and just knew I had to post it.
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