Pog the Pig
Pog the pig was incredibly big,
But his pen was incredibly small.
Yet his owner, called Alice, whose house was a palace,
Did nothing about it at all.
For years poor Pog was a very squished hog,
Confined to the walls of that pen.
It was grimy and cramp and disgustingly damp,
Pog cried every night, until when …
A wild wind one day blew the pig pen away,
Big Pog was now homeless but free.
So he gobbled up Alice, moved into her palace,
And lived happy as happy could be.
But his pen was incredibly small.
Yet his owner, called Alice, whose house was a palace,
Did nothing about it at all.
For years poor Pog was a very squished hog,
Confined to the walls of that pen.
It was grimy and cramp and disgustingly damp,
Pog cried every night, until when …
A wild wind one day blew the pig pen away,
Big Pog was now homeless but free.
So he gobbled up Alice, moved into her palace,
And lived happy as happy could be.
This poem is copyright (©) Jonathan Sellars 2024
About the Writer
Jonathan Sellars
Jonathan lives in Greenwich, England. He is severely obsessed with writing poems, primarily ones that rhyme. His work has featured in The Caterpillar and Parakeet magazine and his first picture book, Polly Plum: Brave Adventurer, comes out in Spring 2022. He has two small children, neither of whom can read or write poetry. He's not worried about that. Yet.