The Pig The little piggy, on the farm, Came trotting down the lane, When out in the distance, far away, He saw the farmer coming again. The farmer would move him, he understood, Like he had been moved before, There would be no difference, except the usual, They would feed him a little bit more. The pig was moved from sty to sty, Until he reached the prime of his #life, Then the farmer came for one last time, But it caused the pig no strife. The farmer put him in a lorry, Crammed in with all his pig friends, The cramped, sweaty pigs did not understand, That they were nearing the end.
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Thomas Pennington
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Imogen Daisy
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Thomas Pennington
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