The Irish Pig

It was an evening in November,
As I very well remember.
I was walking down the street in drunken pride,
And my knees were all a-flutter,
So I landed in the gutter,
And a pig walked up and laid down at my side.

Yes, I lay there in the gutter,
Thinking thoughts I could not utter,
When a colleen passing by did softly say,
‘You can tell the man that boozes
By the company he chooses....'
At that, the pig got up and walked away.

Anon.

Gaugin, Paul; The Swineherd, Brittany; 29x36" (74x93 cm)

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