The Short Sighted Shepherds...

I am a young shepherdess, Following a budding shepherd, He is in blue, wearing white, I am tainted white with no clue, We both roam around our herds, Waking up before the dawn and dust, Holding the pitcher and carrier for the food, Gazing at them is our job to do, The mongrels from the kennels at our side, The lone shepherd is always kind, Teaching the herds to how to behave, The herds shake their head with no hesitate, The brave shepherd is too happy to have the feast, When I tell him that there are lots of lecherous flies, Around their heads, the shepherd is too stubborn, To believe that they say yes to his great sermons, I am the shepherdess, following the shepherd, As the laws of husbandry have declared, The shepherds are here, wearing the ties and tags, Not attending annual dinners as they are in blue, Happy but a gale, looking for the visible signs, When the dream fences are collapsed to invite fore closers, The herds of thought would escape for new pastures, The shepherds are left alone with dried and fresh manure, The great shepherdess would evolve from the heart breaking failures.