Mary and her Lamb

Mary had a little lamb

Fleece as white as snow

Followed her to school one day

Which was against the rules

Made the children laugh and play

To see a lamb at school

Yes, this is a very truncated version of “Mary had a little lamb.”  But did you really want to read all the repetitions?  It’s probably swirling around in your head, even as you read this. I know it is in mine.

So what’s with Mary and her lamb, you might be wondering.  Was she a  farmer’s daughter and a 4-H member?  You got it in one.  Every year she raised a lamb to show at the State Fair, where she hoped to get a blue ribbon.  After the fair, her parents would insist she sell the lamb to the highest bidder, who would lead it to the slaughterhouse.  But the lamb was loved—for the moment.

The mistake this lamb made was following Mary to school—one day.  So many happy children were out at recess, laughing and playing, as the lamb gamboled about their school yard.

But there’s always a bully in a school yard, isn’t there?  This one’s name was Percival.  Now you’d think someone with the name of Percival would have enough problems without picking on other people or their lambs.  But Percival had his own lambs, and he was sick of not ever getting a ribbon at the State Fair, not even honorable mention. While this little Mary in her pinafore and Mary Janes always seemed to win something.  If it wasn’t for her lamb, it was for her samplers, or her pineapple upside down cake, which Percival was sure Mary’s mother helped her with.

So when the school bell rang, calling the children in from recess, everyone lined up to return to class—except Percival and the lamb, as lambs in school were against the rules.

No one noticed Percival was missing, or maybe they did and were just glad to be rid of him for a while.  So outside on the playground were just the two of them, Percival and the lamb oh, and the knife Percival held in his hand.

“Come here, lamby-pamby,” Percival urged, slowly creeping up on Mary’s little lamb with fleece as white as snow.

But those of us who have shepherded lambs know that they do not come hither for anyone, except maybe for Mary and an experienced sheep dog.  So the chase began.  Percival moved one way, the lamb skittered the other.  Off they went, darting back and forth, until Percival had chased the lamb to the edge of the cliff far above the roiling waves of the sea.

Now lambs will be known to follow a leader over the edge of a cliff, but Mary’s lamb had no leader.  Mary was its leader.

Well, the inevitable happened.  Percival ran at the lamb, knowing this time there was no escape.  But the lamb hunkered down just in time to watch Percival fly over its fleece as white as snow and also the cliff’s edge.

The end of Percival the Bully?  Not quite.  Because it wasn’t a sharp drop down to the sea but a series of cascades, Percival had caught hold of a tree root and found a foothold on a narrow ledge, where he could look up at the lamb and down to the sea below.  Because of his jealous nature, Percival knew he was done for.  Unless—unless he called loudly enough so that someone would hear him.

But the only one to hear him was the lamb.  Mary’s lamb.  However, if Percival could hold out until lunchtime, maybe—

And that’s when the lamb, realizing that not everyone was as nice as Mary or as nasty as Percival, decided to make a moral choice.  Off the lamb gamboled, back to the school yard and up to the school house window.  There it butted its head against the glass and let out innumerable bleats, so many that the teacher became irate and told Mary to take the lamb home, pronto.

So out Mary went, ready to scold her lamb.  But unlike most times, this time the lamb shied away from her, bleating and leading her onward, making circles around her so that she would follow.

And follow she did, over to the cliffside, where she heard a weakened Percival calling for help.  “Oh, my!” Mary exclaimed.

Mary’s interpersonal relationships at that point in her young life were mainly with the girls in her class.  So she had no idea how much Percival despised her.  If she had realized his dislike, she might have acted differently.  But instead with a pureness of soul and a good-hearted nature, she rushed back to the classroom and informed both teacher and students of Percival’s predicament.

Fire and rescue were called.  What excitement it was for the children, as they gathered around to watch the rescue!  When Percival was finally lifted above the cliff’s edge, the children cheered.  Percival looked abashed but happy to know not everyone hated him.  How grateful he was to Mary—and her lamb.  Tears came to his eyes when he saw even the children he bullied celebrating his rescue.

Maybe this experience would make him a better person?

Well—maybe, but let’s not count on it.

Meanwhile, the hero of the day was Mary’s lamb.  This one, because of its bravery, Mary’s parents allowed her to keep. It was with her always for as long as it lived.  Its wool served her well for mittens and blankets; and even if the lamb no longer won blue ribbons, Mary’s weaving did.  She became well known throughout the county and then the state as an artist of distinction for her intricate patterns.

Percival?  A leopard doesn’t change its spots.  Or so they say.  Having never seen a leopard in the wild, this I cannot attest to.  Percival soon forgot the joy he felt upon his rescue, his love of all mankind, and became known, both as boy and man, as someone to avoid.  He moved away from the farm where he grew up to a small town.  There he made life miserable for everyone he encountered.  Until one day finally he disappeared and no one knew where he had gone.  Or they just weren’t saying.