The Whistlepig Jig

The Whistlepig Jig I sat upon my porch one day my pennywhistle for to play. When out stepped Mr. Whistle-pig, I thought to dance a jig. “I left the comfort of my den,” says he,”to satisfy my yen. I hear this high-pitched trilling noise, emanating from your little toy.” “This is no little toy”, says I, “so what do you imply?” “I do not like this sound, that pulled me out from underground.” “Too bad” says I and played on still, I will not quit until you‘ve had your fill.” He chuckled in his ground hog way, and said he, “I intend now to stay, to laugh at you while you play.” I took umbrage at his cheek and said he had no right to speak. With careful aim I raised my whistle and flung it at him like a missile. He caught it with his little paws and placed its reed in his jaws. As he played, he grinned a grin, for we both now know that he is the real musician.