Bad Bugs
I am mama three little pigs,
In a little brick house big and strong.
The wind is blowing bugs outside,
But soon they will be gone.
I’ll not open the door to the beasts,
‘Til they fall to the floor dead in spring mud;
They just should have blown hot with the creeps,
Far away where they belong.
I’ll cuddle my young
From showing face
Until the beasts have
Lost their grace.
For I am mama three little pigs
In a little brick house big and strong.
The wind is blowing bugs outside,
Off in the air, they will soon be gone.
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