Page:Hannah More (1887 Charlotte Mary Yonge British).djvu/201

That pork 's unwholesome, doctors tell us
Though of the fact I'm somewhat jealous;
And I believe, beyond all question,
Bacon is sovereign for digestion.
For this one cause, among a few,
I'm glad I was not born a Jew.
No quadruped like Piggy claims
To give his flesh so many names;
The calf and sheep half starve the glutton
By yielding only veal and mutton,
While all extol the liberal swine
For griskin and the savoury chine.
How often does the brawny flitch
Adorn the table and enrich
The stately ham, the rasher small
Are liked in every state; and all
Who will confess they see no good in
The poignant sausage and black pudding,
The spare-rib, sweet-bone, ears and snout
My bill of fare will quite make out;
For I disdain my song to close
By stooping to the pettitoes.
He ne'er was seen to dance a jig,
Though a genteel and graceful pig;
Yet when he round my field would prance,
It might be termed a country dance.
Those men who dancing lives have led,
Are worse than nothing when they're dead;
While Piggy's goodness ne'er appears
Till closed his eyes and deaf his ears.
Though feeding spoilt his shape and beauty,
Yet feeding was in him a duty;
In spite of this reproach or that,
It was his duty to grow fat.
Death was to him no awful sentence,
No need for sorrow or repentance;
How many a gourmand, stout and big,
Might envy thy last hour, O pig!