Oinks of piggies doomed to die,
Destined soon to deeply fry;
Early sizzling bacon grease,
Tumult raised for breakfast feast;
Or perhaps a silence sweet
Speaking soft of roasting meat
Whispers of a dinner nigh:
In these sounds our pleasures lie.
Nothing short of heaven's grace
Ever could the joy replace
Divined by these delicious sounds
In whose great praise our voice resounds.
Now take the plate, prepare your fork,
Inhale the breath of luscious pork;
No time to waste; now don't be shy:
Gorge yourself with pig, says I!
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