The Whistle Pig War (Part 1)

(A Tale of Vanity and Revenge)

Whistle Pig Inspects the Garden Perimeter (photo: Craig Sabin)

The following is a true story. The names have not been changed because no one was innocent.

What’s a “whistle pig” you say?
It’s nothing but a sobriquet,
Unending appetite on legs,
That always steals and never begs.

Part 1. The Planting

“When you shall eat of the fruit of your hands, you will be happy and it will be well with you.”

Psalm 128, verse 2

A modest garden once I grew
     In summer days of yore.
Would not have planted if I knew
     That it would start a war.

I cut the sod and turned the soil,
     And planted tiny seeds.
And as it grew I gave my toil,
     Attending to its needs.

The little sprouts that one by one
     Emerged from 'neath the ground,
Each raised their hands to praise the sun
     And sang without a sound.

It pleased my heart to see them grow,
     No pains would I have spared,
And after work each day I'd go
     To see how well they fared.

Watermelon, pumpkins, peas,
     and sunflowers so tall,
Tomatoes more than all of these,
     I liked them best of all.

My garden sat inside a fence
     Whose links were made of carbon steel,
To keep the fruits from going hence,
     And granting pigs a stolen meal.

And so it was, I felt secure,
     The labor of my hands to cherish.
My fence my harvest would assure,
     And not allow my hopes to perish.


But the thing about a whistle pig?



A whistle pig      can dig… (to be continued)

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© Craig Sabin 2021 All rights reserved