The Pig
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
pig-out!
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
and
then
splat!
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