Piggy Poo. A five-part limerick…
One day, as we passed a tall mound
Sweet Flora, my wife, looked around
To see what foul smell
Had made her nose swell…
The answer I readily found!
“Just look at that heap, Flora. You’re
Undoubtedly smelling manure!
The pig farm nearby
Maintains a clean sty.
But this is disgusting for sure!”
Whined Flora, “Then what shall we do?
I don’t want to smell piggy poo!
I won’t pinch my nose
And do not suppose
That our daily walks are now through!”
With shovels we vowed to return
And do the old shire a good turn
By hauling away
This fecal display…
Next day, though, we watched the mound burn!
So now when we feel a bit stiff
We walk without fear of the whiff
That caused my sweet rose
To claim, “I’ve a nose
No mastiff can hope to outsniff.”
© 2014 David E. Miller