This is an ode to two boars I looked after for a while, a few years back. One was really loud, but the quieter one was in charge. (I didn't sleep well last night...) With apologies to Lewis Carroll for mangling his poem.
Twas brilig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy where the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Beware the fridge door my son
The glass that slides, corners that catch
Beware the salad drawer and shun
The frumious ice door latch.
He took his empty tum in hand
Long time the manxome fridge he sought
Then rested he, under a large cosy
And stood a while, in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The small human, with comfy lap
Came whiffling through the tulgy house
And went through the kitchen door.
One two, one two and then anew
His loudest wheek was heard afar
The human stopped, and listened hard
And came back out with veg.
Oh hast though summoned vegetables?
Come to my arms, my beamish boar!
O frabjous day, pepper carrot celery!
He chortled in his joy.
Twas brilig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
But two happy boars lay comatose
With all the vegetables put away.
(I have no picture of them, but I hope you like the poem. It may remind you of boars you have known...)
