OCR Text |
Show PIGS AND POETRY U A U, YES," said Porky Pi?, "the beautiful springtime will be along before anyone knows it, grunt, grunt." "Squeal, squeal," said Miss Ham, "you speak ns though it were going to come a-walking on two legs or four.-' "Grunt, grunt," said Porky Pig, "that is because you don't understand me as you should." 'Terhaps not as you'd like me to understand you," said Miss Ham. "Weli, the fact remains, say what jou will, that the beautiful springtime will be along before anyone knows it, grunt, grunt." "You said all that before," said Miss Ham. "Things can be said more than once," said Porky Pig," and no harm is done to anyone. "It is not doing anyone the slightest slight-est harm because I said that the beau- she might be, that nothing would give me greater joy than to provide for her forever. "I couldn't say that for it wouldn't be the truth, and I do want to tell the truth. "I'm a truthful pig, I am. grunt, grunt." ''Then why are you so interested in the fact that before long the spring will be here?" asked Miss Ham. '"ire you looking forward to seeing the buds burst Into bloom, as they talk about?" "Who talks about them bursting into in-to bloom?" asked Porky. "The buds themselves don't, do they?" "No, people," said Miss Ham. "People "Peo-ple talk that way. I've heard them when the pen has been without food and there has been nothing else to do. "And they've talked of the lovely springtime and of its beauty and of the flowers appearing and the blossoms blos-soms and the green grass and all such things. "They have seemed quite happy about it. "I wasn't thinking of any of those things, grunt, grunt," said Torky Tig. "I was thinking of other things. My thoughts were of mud, of beautiful, beautiful mud. Even though a pig is not by nature poetical I cannot help reciting my poem about it. "Of course I wouldn't have composed com-posed it had it not been that the winter win-ter shed gets tiresome around this time and there wasn't much to do or to eat and I thought of happy times ahead." "I suppose I cannot help but listen," Miss Ham said to herself, "unless I should be out-and-out rude and go off, and there isn't anywhere much to go in the winter shed. That's the way with poets. "They always have one at a disadvantage. disad-vantage. They corner one and now I must hear the poem." Porky Pig commenced : In the spring, the spring, I sing, yes, I sing. Or rather I squeal Of the joy that I feel, For there's glorious mud, Ah, glorious mud! In which to dig, I dance a jig At the thought of it; The mud with me makes a great hit. "I don't believe," said Miss Ham, "that it is very poetical to say 'makes a great hit,' but then of course I'm not up on the very latest kinds of poetry and there', no telling what poets may do particularly pig poets!" But Porky paid no attention. He was satisfied with his poem and satisfied satis-fied that he ' id had some one to listen to it! (CopyrlEht. -i uannoi neip necmng iviy Koem About . tiul springtime would be along before be-fore anyone knew it, grunt, grunt, more than once." "Yes, and now you're saying it again," said Miss Ham. "But," she continued after a moment, mo-ment, "why are you so interested? Are you growing sentimental because it is springtime? Do you feel as though you were going to carry pigweed pig-weed to some charming young Miss Pig and say to her: " 'Dear Miss Pig, let me provide for you forever. Nothing would give me greater joy." "Oh, no, no, no," grunted Porky Pig. "I'd never say anything like that. I'm an old pig, set in my ways, and I'm not going to change. "What is more, I could never say to any pig, young and beautiful though |