A pig is what I am,
Well fed and fattened,
To be choice Pork and Ham.
Big hairy ears that flop about,
A tail short
and curly,
A Ring through my snout.
Rolling around amidst the mire,
Forever
grunting and snorting,
My position is so very dire.
The farmer is still feeding me well,
A big
trough in my sty,
Food, such a sweet smell.
My shape is now nicely round,
My belly so
big,
It scrapes on the ground.
So big now I can hardly walk,
Farmer he
smiles a lot,
Soon he will turn me into pork.
Farmer does a market day deal,
I am to be
sent away,
No reprieve no matter how I squeal.
So farmer has now sealed my fate,
So spare a
thought for me, the pig,
As you serve me up on your Sunday plate.
Andy 27/1/2009