i beg of you please to stop rewriting the plums in the icebox poem to be about feral hogs

learn another poem

in my yard, the 30-50 feral hogs come and go
talking of my small kids, you know

shall i enact gun control? do i dare to eat some lard?
i shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon my yard
i have heard the 30-50 feral hogs oinking, each to each

i do not think that they will oink to me.

nobody, not even the 30-50 feral hogs, have such small hams

i'm a feral hog! who are you?
are you a feral hog, too?
then there's 30-50 of us — don't tell!
they'd shoot at us, you know

sing to me of the hogs, Muse, the hogs of thirty to fifty-

odysseus: wait no, don't shoot them, please, those are my sailors

odysseus: CIRCE

shall I compare thee to a feral hog?
thou art less surly and less obstinate

my mentions are so legitimately good right now

the best thing about this thread is that I've legitimately learned several lovely poems I didn't previously know by reverse-searching jokes about hogs