Little Bo Peep has eaten her all her sheep
She pretends not to know their whereabouts
But for how long can she this secret keep
Before the pressure builds and out she spouts
Kebabs, lamb stew, roasted leg with mint sauce
She loves her sheep but not as first we thought
Her secret safe, we call Inspector Morse
To investigate and a villain caught
Her alibi, she says she was asleep
So turn to those who would have been awake
To ask of the sheep and where they would keep
Such stolen goods before a chance to bake
Into a pie intended for a king
Or maybe for its fleece to make a coat
A fancy one with red and silver bling
The best, the only coat in which to gloat
And so the criminal hipster is born
His fancy coat and fancy beard, are weird
His music unknown, the 60s reborn?
No hippies here, these are hipsters as feared
Little Bo Peep might her secret have kept
Except the smell, of sweet delicious meat
Caught red handed into her house she crept
But the inspector grabbed her by her feet
And arrested her, for wasting his day
When he could have been fighting crime elsewhere
Catching the baddies and making them pay
So he left and give a dirty stare
How dare she eat her sheep then bare face lie
What did she hope to achieve by all this?
It doesn’t make sense we should just say bye
She’s clearly not right, something oddly a miss
Captain Breadbeard Productions 