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i beg of you please to stop rewriting the plums in the icebox poem to be about feral hogs
learn another poem
learn another poem
in my yard, the 30-50 feral hogs come and go
talking of my small kids, you know
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.
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
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
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
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
