Wednesday, December 12, 2007

The Pigfoot Rebellion

When the hair is carefully trimmed away
You find in the pig's forefoot a little hole
Through which the legion of devils bow in and out.

Say they enter on a summer morning,
Leaving the marks of their tiny claws as six
Small rings. Then, 'please the pigs,'

As the Saxons say, those trotters flash
In as fiddle a jig as you who listen
Candidly will hear from any warm

Sly singer in the mud: 'Oh the mud is good,
There's plenty of good to be found in slops,
And the best of the good is a beast in shade.

They'll slit my ear and cast me out
Unfit for human consumption. Bub,
I'll follow anyone home who feeds me, yes,

And live to a hundred and five or ten.' Oh trim
The hair from a pig's forefoot; I'll show you why
A poke is best from the inside. And a sty.

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