The Pig That Said Onk
Poem By Herbert Nehrlich
I knew a pig that loved to wallow
inside the swamp's Northeastern hollow.
The pig had legs and grunted 'onk'
and all the beasts did like the donk.
But there was something pretty bleak
about the sow, she sure did reek.
When all the Longhorns left in fright
and flies were dying in the night,
it was the time that God's own nose
detected all the fumes that rose.
He sent his lightning strike to earth
and death was followed by a birth.
A rose was born and pleased the masses
and gone was evil and her gasses.
It often happens that a cell
becomes aberrant and unwell.
And soon the organs fall apart
kaputt is now the applecart.
How sad that those who emanate
the odours of a rotten state
cannot themselves smell their own stench
I shall not say the word in French.