Gabriel had started to murmur in Irish. Not so long ago this would have delighted the sheep, and even now Gabriel's gentle voice had an indisputable charm.
Othello made a step forward. The flock stayed close behind him. The black ram looked shortly at Gabriel with sparkling eyes. Then he quietly turned and trotted over to Rebecca. Gabriel cooed his Irish like a mad cock-pigeon, but to no avail. One after the other the sheep surrounded Rebecca...
"Great", said the solicitor. "That's what I call a clear result"...
"George Glenn's sheep", he said politely, "I wish you much fun in Europe."
Glennkill by Leonie Swann
The above was translated by myself. I have at the moment only access to my German copy.
The sheep here today wear a fleece that's made following a very easy chart with just four rows.