Well,—let us suppose it was breakfast,—and they
With their delicate noses were grubbing away,
When up came their master, whose looks, to my thinking,
Betokened a love for good eating and drinking;
And 'tis not unlikely the pigs thought so too,
For they never so much as said "How do you do?"
But went on in silence to finish their feeding,
Which certainly was not a mark of good breeding;
But as they thus acted, I must tell the truth,
Though I'd rather my pigs had not been so uncouth.
However, the master looked on at his leisure,
And seemed to regard them with infinite pleasure,
And no ill intent,—'till he happened to see
One fat little lady pig, white as could be.
Then his mouth fairly watered, as he thought how nice,
With sage, onion, and apple sauce, would be a slice
Of that nice tempting piggy,—so, calling to Joe,
Who also was fond of roast pork, you must know,
Said, "Joe, you had better that little pig kill,
Before she gets bigger." Said Joe, "Sir, I will."
The pigs heard this order with great consternation,
And grunted, quite clearly, their disapprobation;
But master and man took no heed of their sorrow,
And Miss was to die the day after the morrow.
The rest, who were all in her fate interested,
Now offered such comfort as pity suggested:
"They won't hurt you much," simpered one tender swain,
"I've heard that this killing is scarce any pain;
Pray take some more wash, and this cabbage-stalk bite."
"No, thank you," said Piggy, "I've no appetite."
At night, when she laid herself down in her sty,
In vain she attempted to close her bright eye:
Not a wink could she get through the whole of the night,
And wept till she made herself look like a fright.
She turned first on one side, and then on the other,
And two or three times thought of waking her mother;
But this was not easy, for pigs are sound sleepers,
And not very willing to open their peepers.
At last morning dawned, and mamma pig awoke,
When thus poor Miss Piggy with much spirit spoke:
"Dear mother, it certainly is a great pity,
To kill me while I'm so young and so pretty;
But if they can have such bad taste as to do it,
I really don't see why I should submit to it.
No one in their senses, I think, would remain
When they know they are soon to be cruelly slain;
There are more sties than this in the world, I dare say,
So I think I had better at once run away."
"Alas! my dear child," said her mother, "I fear
You may as well make up your mind to stay here,
For 'tis likely the very first person you meet,
Would carry you off, and then kill you to eat.
Wherever you go, there is just the same danger;
You had better be killed by a friend, than a stranger.
To tell you the truth, I am sadly afraid,
It is for man's eating that we pigs are made.
The thought is not pleasant, yet, what we can't cure,
As the old proverb says, we must learn to endure."
