“A Piggy Tale,” Friend, June 1987, 20–21
A Piggy Tale
This is the story
Of Penny the Pig,
Who would do her chores daily
And never renege.
She cleaned her sty proudly
With brushes and pail
And groomed herself neatly
From head down to tail.
She watered the flowers
That grew by her door,
And when she was finished,
She planted some more.
She polished the handle
And bolt on the gate.
She scrubbed out the trough
Till the day became late.
All of the other pigs
Laughed and poked fun.
A pig cleaning her sty—
It just wasn’t done!
For everyone knows
That pigs like to be grubby,
To sleep in the mud
And eat till they’re tubby.
But Penny was clever,
Not just being prim.
She found that the work
Kept her figure quite trim.
So when, once a month,
The farmer came by
To check on the pigs
And look in each sty,
He’d walk right past Penny
And, “Tut!”—just say that—
Then look in the next sty
For a pig that was fat.
So, though she was mocked,
Penny knew she was safe
In her neat, tidy sty,
Staying as thin as a waif.
And at length, those who mocked her
Hung sadly in shops,
For their fat, lazy bodies
Became bacon and chops.