The pig

Written by: Avril Leaf

It was a cold and muddy day
as Gertrude lay smiling.
Just the kind of weather 
that she adored.
She could splash around 
for hours in the glop 
and guzzle up 
all her shlopp 
when it was time.
Oh how she loved 
the sound 
of the hog-call.
It would signal 
that special time 
of day for her 
when she could literally 
Her delicate pink skin 
did not tan too well, 
always needing 
a good coating of oils, 
hence the perfection 
in the weather described.
Her trotters, 
she thought, 
were possibly 
her best feature – 
could they 
be called dainty? 
Unlike her large snout 
that she sometimes wished 
could have been 
more discreet-looking. 
She valued her large ears 
because they were 
indeed an asset, 
especially close 
to supper time 
and her eyes, 
well, they were 
the eyes of 
an intelligent creature, 
somewhat underestimated 
by Man, 
simply because 
of the sweet tasting 
tantalising suppleness 
of the flesh 
of the animal. 
What to do 
thought Gertrude, 
but eat, 
eat, eat, 
eat, eat, 
while you still 
could eat, 
at least. 
Because one day – 
every pig knew 
as all pigs know – 
we would all see 
the blade descend 
on us