The Three Little Pigs

I was going to write a Things I Have Learnt From Two Weeks of Writing a Poem a Day post today – but, by the time I’d finished today’s poem, it was quite late. So I’ll do that post soonish – suffice to say, so far I’ve managed to write at least some sort of poem every day of Lent. And today’s is on The Three Little Pigs – yes, it’s been done, but I thought telling a nursery rhyme could be fun.

Three pigs (of no enormous size)
Decided – with great enterprise
To try something transformative:
They’d build themselves a place to live.

But having got that far, they found
That each believed the plans unsound
Propounded by the other pair.
They split: one here, one here, one there.

Pig number one determined: straw
Was best for roof and walls and floor
And doors and windows and, indeed,
If liquefied, made potent mead.

Now, building regulations state
The roofs should be, ideally, slate
And doors and walls require more
(To keep them standing up) than straw.

The wolf passed by, prepared to huff
(And puff) – but nature called his bluff
A breath of wind, a tiny one,
And wolf found that his job was done.

(It’s sad to say, that little breath
Of wind meant pig was crushed to death.
It turns out straw, if in a stack
Can break more than a camel’s back.)

Pig number two observed the scene
Where Piggy number one had been.
He thought, “I knew that straw was wrong.
Now, sticks – they’re much more safe and strong.”

Suffice to say, no building guide
Has ever yet identified
As ‘Place To Start for Builder Pigs’
The hasty gathering of twigs.

The wolf turned up, and quickly saw
That ’twas with sticks as ’twas with straw.
His services were not required:
The pig had, under sticks, expired.

Let’s throw the third pig in the mix.
He’d (rather wisely) chosen bricks
Since noting (unlike straw or trees)
That almost every house used these.

He hired contractors, drew up plans,
Employed a fleet of men with vans.
The house was built and Pig, with glee
Moved in, and made a cup of tea.

The wolf was waiting – hungry, stressed,
Mere days from cardiac arrest –
And, rageful, watched the pig move in –
But vowed no porcine foe would win.

He Googled how to win this fight
And, after that, bought dynamite.
So, while poor Piggy drained his cup,
Wolf huffed, and puffed – and blew him up.

23 thoughts on “The Three Little Pigs

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:44 pm

      Haha! Thanks Jenny :D

  • March 16, 2017 at 2:23 am

    OMG! That is hilarious, love it! You are pretty good at poetry.

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:45 pm

      Thanks Peg!

  • March 16, 2017 at 2:27 am

    Simon…That was hilarious ! I laughed out loud at the end and sent it out to friends. What a fun poem !

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:47 pm

      Oh how kind, thanks Linda :D

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:50 pm

      Haha! Yes, they deserve it, don’t they?

  • March 16, 2017 at 7:53 am

    That’s too funny. As I was reading it I thought, “Wow, Simon could make a career writing children’s books!” And then I came to the end. But it’s still hilarious. Well done!

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:51 pm

      Thanks Karen! I wonder what children can tolerate… if Roald Dahl taught me anything, it’s that they can generally cope with more than adults, in fiction!

  • March 16, 2017 at 10:25 am

    Brilliant! Thank you for cheering up a grey morning.

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:56 pm

      Thanks Ann :)

  • March 16, 2017 at 12:28 pm

    I did enjoy this, and as an architectural technologist had an extra laugh, as the building regulations now actually encourage houses of ‘sticks’ and ‘straw’ on environmental grounds!

    • March 23, 2017 at 10:57 pm

      That’s hilarious! The pigs have clearly been misjudged over the years ;)

  • March 16, 2017 at 4:09 pm

    Very clever take on the rhyme Simon – lovr it!

    • March 23, 2017 at 11:02 pm

      Thanks :)

    • March 23, 2017 at 11:05 pm

      Thanks Annabel!

  • March 16, 2017 at 9:22 pm

    Simply brilliant. I like poetry that rhymes and if it is witty poetry that rhymes then so much the better. Disclaimer: remember the value of witty verse can go down as well as up. Your house is at risk even when made of bricks!

    • March 23, 2017 at 11:08 pm

      I’m a sucker for poetry that rhymes too, I will confess. I’m glad you enjoyed it, David!

  • March 17, 2017 at 1:50 pm

    Just goes to show you can never trust Google and the like…
    This made me laugh – a perfect end to the week!

    • March 23, 2017 at 11:10 pm

      Lovely, thanks!

  • March 25, 2017 at 3:25 pm

    Great stuff! Sad ending though.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

%d bloggers like this: