of their small children so they’d live
but no one had enough to give.
A pig, quite adequately sized
was of the problems then advised,
it wobbled over to the hen
who’s napping in the chicken pen.
‘So, have you noticed that the mood
of people all depends on food?
And Farmer Joe is very jumpy
like all the others, also grumpy.’
Said mother hen ‘I do suggest
that both of us will do our best,
to feed the members of our clan
I’ve come up with a clever plan.’
‘Oh, bless you’, said the porky-pig
‘I like it when you think so big,
so what shall we, in times of strife
do for the farmer and his wife? ‘
‘I say’, said gentle fluff-o-feather
‘there is no end to this dry weather,
we’ll have to serve them on the table
something to eat, so they’ll be able
to gather once again their strength.’
And she explained, slow and at length
the details of the rescue mission
and asked the pig for his decision.
‘To keep the wolfe away from here’,
(the hen now whispered in his ear)
we’ll make a giant omelette
a farmer’s breakfast, I will get
my jumbo eggs and those from Pam
and you provide delicious ham.’
The pig, somehow was still a boy
he danced around, so full of joy
but suddenly stopped in midair
‘This sounds so good but is not fair!
If I provide for ham and eggs
the upper portion of my legs
I will not sleep inside my bed
tonight because I shall be dead.
And you, dropp from between your legs
without the danger, down your eggs.’
The hen, with deeply wrinkled brow
explained, with patience why and how
they all should for the common good
make sacrifices and they would
appreciate the selfless act
a monument would be, in fact
erected with his name in gold.
That’s how the hen at last had sold
the story of the farmer starving
and when, at breakfast they were carving
the juicy ham they did remember
one slaughters pigs in mid-December.