Piggy Belle is Dead


Weather Pig sways lazily,
peering from the roof.
He stares at windy Wales
with teardrops in his eyes.

Today he faces windward
as he does throughout the year,
but now his task is tearful.
Piggy Belle is dead.

Guard Pig lies at duty
by the front door, as he must.
His task to pee on Mormons,
bite willies off burglar thugs.

He is is lax about his duties,
though always at his post.
Today he glares with sadness,
for Piggy Belle is dead.

Piggy Ornamental
has no job to do at all.
She is just bronzed off with life today
and yesterday as well.

Her empty life is emptier,
so decorously sad,
Pigginess is lesser now,
'cos Piggy Belle is dead.

All the piggy presences
in Malpoet's grand estate,
grieve the porcine paucity,
end of the Belle Epoche.

For years she hung out prettily.
She called at dinner time.
If needed on the telephone,
she let me know in time.

The constant task was arduous,
as was time and weather toll.
Poor Piggy Belle has fallen now
None more shall hear her call.

How sad I was when I was told,
she'd tolled her final toll.
The porky rites at last are said.
Piggy Belle is dead.

Piggy Belle any relation to Anna Plurabelle? Belle and Sebastapol? La Belle Dame Sans Teeth? Belle-Geisha Crossings? The Belle Belle Cell? Belle Elba Liebe Library Liberation Font? Pigs see the wind, don't they? Supposedly. Why did she die? Not Foot and Smurf? Now I am bleu blur bluh. A goodly piece and marvel larded, laude gaudete laurel gaulloise trotters.
Yours, Sough's 'ere

Thanks Moxy. She succumbed to rust.

Bust wuth rust
fell to dust
as she must
just
bust.

I am in morning until Thursday is over and then it will be afterpiggy.

I hate to ask but, when morning comes, is she being replaced? I have always fancied growing tumbleweeds -- just a lovely mobile garden that would be.

Hmm! Don't know, it is hard to fill such a belle of a gap in your life.

very enjoyable malcolm
I love this poem
the 'piggy belle' and the 'belle epoch'

this reminds of a weather vane that fell down
i do love the imagary and I start feeling the pig/human analgy and the inevitable thought jump to Animal Farm.

good stuff

Thanks very much Pete.

I am the boss pig and all the pigs on this farm know it.

Regrettably, despite my infallibility, I committed a scanning crime by my injudicious use of 'willies'. However, I have had the balls to correct it and the revised version is as follows:

Piggy Belle is Dead

Weather Pig sways lazily,
peering from the roof.
He stares at windy Wales
with teardrops in his eyes.

Of course he faces windward
as he does throughout the year,
but now his task is tearful.
Piggy Belle is dead.

Guard Pig lies at duty
by the front door, as he must.
His task to pee on Mormons,
bite balls off burglar thugs.

He is is lax about his duties,
though always at his post.
Today he glares with sadness,
for Piggy Belle is dead.

Piggy Ornamental
has no job to do at all.
She is just bronzed off with life today
and yesterday as well.

Her empty life is emptier,
so decorously sad,
Pigginess is lesser now,
'cos Piggy Belle is dead.

All the piggy presences
in Malpoet's grand estate,
grieve the porcine paucity,
end of the Belle Epoche.

For years she hung out prettily.
She called at dinner time.
If needed on the telephone,
she let me know in time.

The constant task was arduous
as was time and weather toll.
Poor Piggy Belle has fallen now
None more shall hear her call.

How sad I was when I was told,
she'd tolled her final toll.
The porky rites at last are said.
Piggy Belle is dead.


The real story of piggy belle is that many of my family and friends know my fondness for pigs (so fond in fact that I eat some of them, but they forgive me), and over the years I have been given many pigs. One of them is a weather vane, another is a concrete one who lies outside the front door and so on. I am sure you get the picture.

Piggy Belle was a nice cast iron bell fixed on the wall just outside the back door. Her job was to call me in to eat when I was out playing with earwigs and other people in the garden. Piggy Belle came from Portugal I think, but I can't remember. I will now have to travel the world for several years to see if I can find a replacement. If I don't do that I will starve to death and be eaten by earwigs. That would be very bad for their health so I can't let it happen. It would be OK if pigs ate me because their digestion can cope with eating a me, but there are no hungry pigs in the garden at the moment.

Unfortunately the strong winds carrying salt, sea air across the Wirral corroded Piggy's support bolt until she crashed to the ground and cracked her Belle.


Aaaaaaaaaaaah!

C'est la mort.

Au revoir mes amis.


Napoleon

Lord of the Flies Piggy, Napoleon Pig, Piglet, Miss Piggy, Lord Emsworth's pig, Pink Floyd's pig, pig iron pig, Charlotte's Web sheep pig, pigment, L. Piggot, pig in clover oink. The pig that won the Peloponnesian wars and the Eurotrash pig and the crypto-ideological pig the sui sui sui generis and pig the leveler. Today I am doing 15 hours community service inside a CAB rollerpoint pen. I pretend every word forced out of me is someone gunning the engine in a dragster in which I am co-driver. Pig is now a doppler ultrasound transducer and no longer a weathervane.

Get your dopples off weather pig. You are a community disservice

Empress of Blandings (unforgiven)

Empress of Soundings Notwithstanding.
Piggy Belle is now linebacker for the Red-Sox and wears Kevlar accessories. Brer Pig Sister Pig screaming engines pig.

Too pignacious

pygmalion!

Malpygion