Thoughtless how soon thou might’st be cook’d,
(A fine appearance then thou mad’st.)
The dangers of a roasting past,
She saw thee rear’d a handsome shoat;
Saw thee a full-grown hog at last,
And heard thee grunt a deeper note.
Thy charms mature with joy she view’d,
As waddling on short legs about,
Or rolling in delicious mud,
Or rooting with sagacious snout.