He came begging for consent
With his innocent melodious accent
Resembling Mother Teresa's reincarnate
All fell for the masquerade,
Bacon he promised,
His dear life too
Like a martyr straight from heaven.
With drooling appetite for loose change
On the driving seat
The bait, we wholesomely swallowed
Stunningly, for the millionth time
Long before the pig left the sty
En-route to the imaginary abattoir.
Why then the rumbling
Now that the bacon
Is no where on the menu
While in the sty
The pig is grappling for more ration.
Isn't it not wise to salivate
For bacon promised by a pig
While his head is still intact
And his snout still delving in sludge?