Out on the farm there lived a pig
he'd spend the day to root and dig.
A firecracker from the sky
came down on him on 4 July.
It burned the hair between his ears
the pig shed many many tears.
The farmer who was soft of heart
was clever, kind and pretty smart.
Today the pig can root and dig,
again, because he wears a wig.
A pig in a wig! Oh, my! I thought it was a picture of my granny! Scarlett, he-he-he
You win the pig piece forum challenge, it HAS to be the case! ! ! Funny. Excellent as ever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A pleasant piece my friend. I like the way that it flows towards the punchline. I feel that rhyme is alive and well when I come across poems like this.