the usual fare is grains and slop
with human dinner scraps on top.
This pig, I must present this loosely,
though eating often, and profusely,
it failed to gain a single pound
while all his siblings grew to round
and chubby specimens indeed.
The farmer, in this time of need,
consulted with a local vet
who told him ‘Matey, do not fret,
tomorrow I shall bring some pills,
they’ll cure all culinary ills.’
The vet, who’d flunked all science courses
and specialised in mini horses,
brought over a supply of booster.
All this was noted by the rooster
whose job it was to ascertain
all goings-on and it was plain
that something edible had come.
You see, the rooster was not dumb.
The pills were left up on the ledge
placed, by mistake, close to the edge;
before the day turned into night
the pigs had had their final bite,
the box was knocked clear to the ground
which made an auditory sound.
The rooster, born with special ears,
did not embrace nocturnal fears,
and, always in the mood for food,
went there to fetch for his small brood
as many pills as he could fit
into his feathers bit by bit,
then made his way back to the coop
where they would chat and then re-group.
Though roosters do possess good ears,
their eyes lack magnifying tears,
these are as you may have been told,
well worth their liquid weight in gold.
That night, the moon had been in hiding,
on Tuesdays he was often riding
from North to South, and East to West
with starlets sitting on his chest.
Huge clouds gave lift and transportation
which cut on earth illumination.
The rooster, fully laden now,
ran smack into the farmer’s plow!
The impact knocked him for a loop,
he made it back though to the coop.
Most of the pills had stayed behind
(this happens when you’re nearly blind) ,
next morning a huge hive of bees,
while minding all their Q’s and P’s,
they hovered near the farmers chickens…
as you can tell, the plot now thickens.
Attracted by exotic fragrance,
the honeybees, a hive of vagrants,
now landed for a little sample,
which was, due to the rather ample
amount the rooster had left lying,
a feast, as well as edifying.
The farmer, feeding all his critters,
inspecting hooves and size of litters,
was searching on the window sills
for the big box of wonder pills.
In vain, he shouted ‘who’s the thief,
I’ll find you and will cause you grief, ‘,
he had, by chance, not by design,
not closed the door so that the swine,
the skinny one escaped at once,
all wiggly but with bony buns.
He came, of course, upon the bees,
(this all took place near poplar trees) ,
most of the hive had now retreated
into the poplars where, once seated,
they’d snooze to help assimilation
guarded by sentries at their station.
The sentries sounded the alarm,
this pig could be potential harm,
and even though they’d had their fill
they’d never share a single pill.
So, with a vengeance they descended
upon the pig, which, undefended,
just stood his ground right where he was,
now being stung without a pause.
Some fifteenhundred times in all,
but now they heard the farmer call
and, stingerless, all bees with queen
flew off and left behind a scene
that had the farmer soon in stitches
and scratching boxershorts and britches.
The pig, intent on sheer survival
had felt and seen the prompt arrival
of fluid from the depths within,
it filled the space beneath his skin
and hailed from his adrenal glands
in a response to new demands.
Adrenalin would save the piggy
who recently had looked like Twiggy,
the other pigs had joined, were staring,
the mother now was even glaring:
The youngster stung by all the bees
was not just bigger but obese!
In fact the sow looked rather skinny
and all the beautiful but mini
and happy horses stod in awe
at the big miracle they saw.
The farmer, too was quite impressed.
God had been kind and duly blessed
him through the vet’s exotic pills,
which seemingly could cure all ills.
What bothered him for many years
(is not concerning rooster tears) ,
why pills would work just by their presence.
You can’t explain this to no peasants.
;