The Duke of Goat sat upon his throne
With it's three mounted sheep's heads
Covered in soft fluffy sheepskin
He tapped his cloven hoof nervously
As he waited to see the bride his father had chosen for him
Mad thoughts raced through his head
"What if she is ugly?
One of those four horned sheep women?"
Or worse
She could be one of those sheep who shaved in inappropriate ways
Ways that only a sheep from the wrong end of town would do
Unconsciously his fingers were stroking the sheep's head on the left
Between it's stiff tanned ears
Yet another nervous tic
Amongst a long list of such things
The breeding process to get goat-men and sheep-women has been fraught with issues
Many undesirable outcomes had been seen and culled as needed
Nothing had gone to waste though
As evidenced by the stately throne the Duke was sitting upon
The current state of the species
Had most males with the upper torso, arms and head if the ancient humans
With everthing below that more resembling a goat
Why the men were called 'goats' instead of the more classical 'satyr' was a mystery to most
Females were usually having the reverse
With human lowers and sheeplike uppers
And were preferred to be this way by most of the male goats
With origins of that preference likely laying deep within misogyny
This chimeric mix of parts the result of thousands of very strange courtships
Suddenly the Duke heard the clip clop of hooves
Accompanied by the soft slapping of feet upon the plank flooring
He apprehensively gripped the woolen heads on either armrest
Biting his lower lip in anticipation
As the small group came into view
His bride marked by her white sheer gown
Her long statuesque legs visible in silhouette
The straps of her dress resting lightly upon the whitest, softest looking woolen coat he'd ever seen
Her petite face looking intently his way
Her long ears twitches slightly at the sight of him
She was perfect
With it's three mounted sheep's heads
Covered in soft fluffy sheepskin
He tapped his cloven hoof nervously
As he waited to see the bride his father had chosen for him
Mad thoughts raced through his head
"What if she is ugly?
One of those four horned sheep women?"
Or worse
She could be one of those sheep who shaved in inappropriate ways
Ways that only a sheep from the wrong end of town would do
Unconsciously his fingers were stroking the sheep's head on the left
Between it's stiff tanned ears
Yet another nervous tic
Amongst a long list of such things
The breeding process to get goat-men and sheep-women has been fraught with issues
Many undesirable outcomes had been seen and culled as needed
Nothing had gone to waste though
As evidenced by the stately throne the Duke was sitting upon
The current state of the species
Had most males with the upper torso, arms and head if the ancient humans
With everthing below that more resembling a goat
Why the men were called 'goats' instead of the more classical 'satyr' was a mystery to most
Females were usually having the reverse
With human lowers and sheeplike uppers
And were preferred to be this way by most of the male goats
With origins of that preference likely laying deep within misogyny
This chimeric mix of parts the result of thousands of very strange courtships
Suddenly the Duke heard the clip clop of hooves
Accompanied by the soft slapping of feet upon the plank flooring
He apprehensively gripped the woolen heads on either armrest
Biting his lower lip in anticipation
As the small group came into view
His bride marked by her white sheer gown
Her long statuesque legs visible in silhouette
The straps of her dress resting lightly upon the whitest, softest looking woolen coat he'd ever seen
Her petite face looking intently his way
Her long ears twitches slightly at the sight of him
She was perfect
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