I stood at the gate to the farmyard
I could hear all the pigs were a-grunting
It must have been all of their birthdays
As the farmer had put up some bunting
The sheep had been kept awake all night
By the farmer with his decorations
No matter how the sheep all counted themselves
They didn't sleep through the pigs celebrations
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem