Hog Wash Poem by Ima Ryma

We pigs don't like the farmer here.
We are jammed into a small pen.
Often times when slop does appear,
We have to wash it off again,
Just so that it is edible.
The farmer sees that and does cuss.
The farmer is such a numbskull,
Not really understanding us.
We're muddy cuz we do not sweat,
But want our food to be clean.
And dirty the farmer did get,
Slipping and falling on the scene.

We washed the farmer off before
We ate that body up encore.