Three pigs, who lived on Taylor's farm,
Thought butcher Billy meant them harm;
Through open gate they hit the road,
To find themselves a new abode.

The first one found a stack of hay,
He burrowed in, and there he lay;
It was a warm and cosy nest,
And piggy thought it quite the best.

The wolf's detected piggy's scent,
A fine pork dinner's his intent,
He puffs and pants and huffs and wheezes,
But allergy gives him the sneezes.

Pig two has found himself a thicket,
The sneezing wolf finds sharp thorns prick it,
And with sore paws away he stumbles,
His eyes are red, his tummy rumbles.

Pig three eschews the hay and sticks,
He'll build himself a house of bricks...
But ere he's laid the first two rows,
here's limping wolf, with running nose.

Despite the pains from which he suffers,
The wolf can see this pig's a duffer,
He grabs the porker with a will,
And very soon he's ate his fill.

So what's the moral of this tale?
When predators are on your tail,
Sod quality, my dears, the lesson's
When danger looms, 'tis speed's the essence.

Thursday, November 28, 2002