Charlotte Watkins Poet Rhyme

Fairytale of New York

For three little pigs,
there was no wolf,
no house of twigs,
no huff, huff, puff.

Just three little pigs,
all far too daft,
all far too thick,
and far too fat.

These three little pigs,
all from the woods,
set sail to where,
a statue stood.

These proud little pigs,
set up their shop,
in New York’s square,
beside the dock.

These bright little pigs,
in old new York,
did find themselves,
'most wanted' pork.

These scared little pigs,
did not realise,
the US fondness,
of pork pie.

These lost little pigs,
frantic to hide,
from Christmas ham,
and bacon fries.
 
These poor little pigs,
now far too late,
all far too slow,
to escape their fate.

These warm little pigs,
beside the fire.
Happy ending no?
There situ dire.

These sweet little pigs,
now roasted ham,
caked in sauce,
like minty lamb.

For three little pigs,
it was the end,
no golden gates,
nor eulogy penned.

02/12/2021

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Tom Cunningham December 24, 2021 at 2:18 PM Poor little piggies, wonder where we are in the food chain. Tom

Rico Leffanta December 2, 2021 at 10:43 AM My grandfather always said that God made deer to eat the grass, men to eat the deer, and worms to eat the men beneath the grass. . . .