White Sheep

White Sheep, White Sheep

on a Blue Hill

When the wind blows

you all run away

When the wind stops\

you all stand still

White Sheep, White Sheep

on a blue hill.

When were were four or five years old, Jack Foster and Bob Hays and I would lie on our backs in the grass by our house and watch the little white fluffy clouds floating around on the big "blue hill". We would try to see the changing shapes of all the wierd animals and monsters in the "white sheep" as the moved over the blue sky. My mother would sit with us and recite that little poem.
Do children still do that. Do they peacefully lie in the grass and visualize wonderful things in the sky. Or are mothers too afraid of the monsters that prowl the streets of modern American, so that the children are kept indoors to watch the TV monsters instead. That was one advantage of growing up in a tiny Kansas town in the 40's and 50's, we were innocent and enjoyed innocent pasttimes. What has been lost??
The worst things that happened to us was the occurence of numerous chigger bites, but watching the white sheep on the blue hill was worth a few little chigger bites.