G'day lads,
I'm busy doing a heap of jobs getting ready to go away to visit family for Christmas, and one of them was to finish writing this poem in a book that my wife and I got for our niece, to send back-and-forth with letters, pictures and silly poems, etcetera. I thought you blokes'd get a laugh out of my attempt at poetry, in honour of one of my favourite animals! Here it is:
Pigs like to snuffle,
And pigs like to dig,
But mostly they just eat,
The lily, clam and fig.
They also like to sleep,
They also like to fight,
They do their sleeping in the day,
And fighting in the night.
Their noses are the best,
Much better than a dog,
Which is why the hunter,
Finds it hard to hunt the hog.
Tiny little piglets,
Huddled in a pack,
Make noises just like ducklings,
A gentle “Quack! Quack! Quack!”
If a dingo’s hungry,
And finds piglet in the grass,
The mother pig will bite him,
Upon his furry _____.
Piggies get the itches,
And roll in mud with glee,
And if that doesn’t work,
They rub against a tree.
Big boar piggies have big teeth,
Big and sharp and strong,
But their tusks cannot protect them,
From their own awful pong!
Black and hairy is the pig,
That’s wild in the bush,
He’s black from squishy snout,
Right back to his hairy tush.
In every land around the world,
The wild pig roams free,
Providing food for many folk,
And cracking sport for me!