Part 19

This piggie had a little trough, Which was always filled with food, Bran and broth, and turnips too, And everything that’s good.

Its little bed was made at night Of lovely meadow hay; There, covered up all but the nose, It snored till break of day.

With sleeping and with eating, The piggie grew so fat, That at last it couldn’t walk or run, So on the straw it sat.

At length it grew so very fat It really couldn’t see; But the fatter, still the jollier, And so it laughed “He! he!”

At last, one day, a strange man came Alas for piggie then! For all at once it went away, And was never seen again.