I've seen brave pigs as they fly North,
At Summer's end for all their worth.
The lead pig stretches out his girth,
To safely reach their Winter's berth.
For piggies settled in their lives,
Are mocked by nursery rhymes contrived
By storytellers who connive,
That market Piggy won't survive.
"Who went to market, who stayed home? "
"Who ate the roast beef, who had none? "
"And who went weeing to their home? "
Are matters better left alone!
So piggies from the hinterland,
For dignity escape the hand,
That pops them by disjointing band;
To fly away where pulling's banned!
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