Gruff

Three goats grazed on a familair hill

Traveling to and fro
From tump to fell

Playing with one another
But one after the other
Ventured for the valley

For the Oldest found a mound he loved
Where he could touch the sky

And the Middle was driven to a drumlin
Where he could finally feel free

So the Youngest romped around the rise,
For longer than he liked,
Looking for grass that tasted
Just as savory
As the company of his brothers
And the hill that he called home