A pig in her sty
Began to ask why
There has to be mud all around?
I'd be happier still
Without all this swill,
With mire and muck on the ground.
She looked at her friends
With smells that offend.
She wanted to find pastures greener.
I'm sick of this grime-
It's finally time
To find a new home that is cleaner.
She left on that day
And was well on her way
When she found an old hollow tree.
It seemed big enough
To fit her and her stuff,
So she moved in with joy and with glee.
But it wasn't too soon
Til she changed her tune
And found that this wasn't quite right.
Yes, it was big,
Nice enough for a pig,
But it was also chock full of termites.
She got up and left,
She felt quite bereft,
But resolved to find something once more.
She followed a trail,
Told herself she'd prevail,
And went further afield to explore.
She entered a meadow,
Where soft grass did grow,
And thought, "How can I complain?
I can look up at the sky,
It's cleaner than the sty!"
But thunder clapped and it started to rain.
She needed no proof
Homes improved with a roof.
When the rain stopped she would look once again-
To find someplace warm
And protected from storms,
And was neater than her old, messy pen.
The clouds started to clear
And blue sky did appear,
So she continued again on her quest.
Up above she did look
To a tree near a brook
And saw an abandoned bird's nest.
Protected by twigs,
These were nice digs-
This could be a great home with ease!
But a problem arose
With this new home she chose,
'Cause as we know pigs cannot climb trees.
So onward she went,
Though feeling quite spent,
When she came upon a small cave.
It was cozy and snug,
And it had a few bugs,
But it had everything else she did crave.
She was settling in.
When she heard a small din,
Looked up and she began squealing.
She didn't realize,
That more than some flies,
There were bats hanging down from the ceiling!
With a long, heavy sigh,
She started to cry.
From one to ten, this was an eleven.
"Is it too much to ask?
Is it too big a task
To want a home that won't stink to high heaven?"
On fur the tears caught,
She then had a thought!
"If my perfect home doesn't exist,
I'll just have to build one
That is second to none!
I shall not give up, I'll persist!"
It took night and day
Of Pig slaving away,
Gathering materials of all sorts and kind.
When it was complete,
She thought it looked neat!
She was happy with the home she designed.
It had a few rooms,
And about twenty brooms
To ensure it stayed perfectly clean.
The minute some dust
Formed a thin crust,
She attacked it to keep things pristine.
There was only one place
You would see any trace
Of dirt, and you needn't go far-
In the yard, a mud pit,
Where she'd rest and sit.
In the end, you are what you are.
