The Three Little Pigs

A long time ago,
In a small and quiet town,
There lived three little piggies,
Who's sty was falling down,
They all decided to move out,
And build their perfect sty,
The first little piggy to go,
Was the oldest pig named Sky.
Although she was the oldest, gruesome
She was an idiotic pig,
She decided she would build her home,
Of lots and lots of twigs.
“My sty will be perfect!” she cried,
“It'll be so big and strong!
I'm cleverer than other pigs,
I've known it all along!”
Her siblings thought her silly,
But they had plans of their own,
The next pig to build their house,
Was the second piggy Joan.
Her house was even worse,
She built it out of hay,
Inside the house was freezing,
Though it was the middle of May,

“It may be a little chilly in here,
But I love my new house so,
It's just the way I like it,
I'll love it here I know!”
The final pig, Joe,
Knew his sisters were wrong,
He built his house of bricks,
It was really rather strong,
“What were my sisters thinking,
Their houses just aren't right,
To see a house of twigs or hay,
Is really quite a sight!”
As they built their homes,
A wolf watched close by,
“Mmmm those three pigs,
Will make a lovely pie!”
When the day was over,
He sneaked out into the night,
When Sky saw him coming,
She almost died of fright!
“Little piggy,” Wolf cooed,
“Come out your house!”
Poor Sky was scared,
But stayed quiet as a mouse.

Wolf changed his tactics,
And pounded on the door,
And when Sky didn't answer,
He hit it more and more.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
“Not by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!”
“Then I'll huff and I'll puff
And I'll blow your house in.”
The wolf breathed out,
And the house blew apart,
Sky the pig was gobbled up,
But it was only the start,
“That was just an appetizer,
Time for the main course!”
He approached young Joan's house,
Clutching tomato sauce.
“I'll have this one with ketchup,
But baked, stewed or fried?
Which way should I eat her,
I just cannot decide!”
While the Wolf was thinking,
Joan sneaked out of the sty,
She didn't want to end up,
Like her sister Sky!

But the Wolf caught her,
And tied her to a stake,
He set her on fire,
And left her there to bake!
He ate her later on that night,
Tomato sauce and all,
But wandered if,
He'd get his pudding at all.
“The third pig is wise,
He'll be hard to get,
But I want him for my pudding,
And I'll get him, I bet!
Joe sat alone in his house
And huddled by the fire
He'd heard the tales of his sisters
And found them rather dire.
“How could they be so silly,
To make their houses of crap?
And now they're both dead,
I need to place a trap,
For this evil, cunning wolf,
I have a nasty gift,
To kill him off very soon,
But I shall have to be swift.”

The young piggy thought long and hard
About what he was to do,
But had no inspiration,
So went and made a brew.
Not so far away, the Wolf watched,
And analysed the pig,
Then he formed an evil plan,
Which involved a women’s wig.
A knock came at Joe’s door,
A visitor he had,
He had been feeling rather lonely,
And was quite glad
To have some company for once,
And so went to let the person in,
At the door stood an old woman
Who was welcomed with a grin.
Although the woman was suspicious
In her green and yellow frock,
With a rather hairy face,
And very fluffy socks
Joe did not suspect this was the beast
That gobbled up his kin,
And he was just about
To let the creature win!
The Wolf opened his mouth wide
And bit the pig in two,
Gone were his head and shoulders
Before the wolf had chewed
He left the piggy’s feet
Until the very last,
He was very happy to have had his snack
His tummy felt vast.
The story ends here
For the most famous pieces of bacon
That ever walked our world,
But beware not to be taken
By the villain of our story
The wicked, wily beast,
Unless you want your family
To be his next feast
But goodbye for now,
Salut, toodle pip,
Try not to be eaten,
Is my poem’s final tip.