I am the king of pigs.
No, it's not the kind of pig
you're thinking of.
My pig is five feet tall
with a solid base and spindly legs.
Its bristly coat is gold, its snout
stuck in the air like a true champion.
Not anyone can catch this pig.
You have to be quick on the trigger,
pressing your finger on the right answer
to cobble up a whole sty of points.
You hear the other pigs rooting around,
sniffing at your rear, trying to catch up.
But you know all the right answers
for you are the king of pigs.
No soft-shelled corn for you, rather
a large lager and spicy chicken wings.
Even when the screen DOESN'T give you
the correct answer for the third clue:
you KNOW it and stay your finger.
Bring me the pig!
Bring me the pig!
I am the champion!
Bring me the pig!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem