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He was always out and about.
First on the block
To be up at the crack of dawn
Sniffing the morning air.
Of course,
Pork was his favourite.
I tell you, he would go a long way
For nice bit of crackling,
Or to catch a tasty piglet or two.
But in the end
It all got too much_
All that huffing and puffing
Up and down the den,
Muttering in his sleep
That he would blow the house down!
Something was wrong,
I could tell________
Some thing had put his nose
Out of joint.
He'd come home full of bravado,
Swaggering into the den.
Flashing me that wolfish grin_
All teeth and tongue__
Then he'd set about boasting,
Full of big talk about
blowing up another building.
It cut no ice with me.
The tell-tale signs were there_
Some days he'd get back
covered in straw
hardly able draw breath.
What he'd been up,
Lord alone knows......
Well it all came to a head,
When late one afternoon__
He shot back in,
With his fur singed.
I had to laugh_
He looked so funny,
Stood there with his bare bottom
Red as a radish.
Talk about coming home
With his tail between his legs!
Where he'd been__ I can't imagine.
He never said.
He stays more at home now.
Well, he's prone to bronchitis__
This time of year you can hear him
coming,
Poor old thing___
Wheezing and puffing,
Hardly able to draw breath.
We don't talk about it __
And he's right off pork!
If you ask me,
Its all been
a bit of a blow
To his ego.
By: Pie Corbett
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