Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for my master,
And one for the dame.
One for the little boy,
Who lives down the lane.
“Baa, Baa, Black Sheep” is one of the oldest known English nursery rhymes, with its origins dating back to the 18th century. The earliest printed version appeared in Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book in 1744, making it a staple of English-language childhood for nearly 300 years.
The rhyme is simple and melodic, often among the first songs taught to young children. On the surface, it seems to be a cheerful verse about a helpful sheep distributing wool. However, some historians argue that the rhyme may have political and economic undertones. A commonly suggested interpretation is that it refers to the Medieval English wool tax, imposed in the 13th century under King Edward I. The “master,” “dame,” and “little boy down the lane” are thought to symbolize the king (or nobility), the church, and the common people—each receiving a portion of the taxed wool.
The rhyme has also been scrutinized for its racial overtones, especially in modern contexts. While “black sheep” originally referred to a literal sheep with black wool (which was less commercially valuable), it has evolved into an idiom for someone who is different, unwanted, or excluded.
Bla, Bla, Black Stray
Bla, bla, black stray,
Have you any hope?
No sir, no sir,
None to help me cope.
Not from my father,
Just silence and shame.
Not from my mother,
Or the church down the lane.
Children of color often languish in foster care—not because they are less worthy of love, but because they are harder to place and even harder to adopt. Whether due to bias, systemic barriers, or lack of support, the result is the same: these children are left waiting far too long for the stability and belonging every child deserves. That is a profound injustice, no matter the causes.
But when the Church—the very people called to embody the love of Christ—remain silent or indifferent, it becomes more than injustice. It becomes sin. To ignore the suffering of the most vulnerable, especially when race plays a role, is to deny the gospel we claim to believe. These children don’t just need homes. They need to know they are seen, valued, and wanted by God’s people. The Church must do better. Indifference is not an option.
