Eye On The Sty

I spent some time, one other day, out in the

fields, the rural way

Stayed with farmer, did farmer work, fed

the Pigs, I did not shirk

The Boars and Sows became my friend, but

Pigs they grunt, there is no end

Invite me, they did, at suppertime, into

the trough, the dipper mine

To be like Pig, put feet right in, into the

trough and grunt again

They grunt right back, try understand, learn

their language, give helping hand

Now and then one Boar did snort, with

louder grunt I cut him short

The louder grunt did the trick, King I

became of sloppy mix

The Piglets, too, did give me a look, and

to their feed and grain betook

They sometimes put up quite a squeal

But Pigs is Pigs, this how I feel