Guinea Pigs
A Poem by Sylvia and De Anna Spencer
We're fed like royalty.
Tomatoes and lettuce,
Carrots and parsley.
We're pigs, guinea pigs.
Our cage is our castle.
The water bottle, our fountain.
Cardboard boxes for hideouts,
We chew out windows and doors.
Weep! Weep! Weeeeeeep!
Give us alfalfa!
Zuchini and fruit!
Pick us up, if you can...
We scoot!
We dash about, frantic and free
Like our wild cousin, the cavy.
We kick woodchips on the floor!
And get scolded even more.
Hee! Hee! Wee! Wee!
But take us outside
Where the breeze ruffles our fur
And we're bold as we forage
Like our wild cousins, the cavies.
Clover and vines,
Grass and some weeds.
Some of us are hard to please...
We're pigs, guinea pigs.
Thinking much of ourselves.
Kings and queens
of the rodents.
Here's a new pig poem by Mom (De Anna Spencer):
Piggy Crazy
Have you ever known a pig
to do a twisty-jig,
to pop-up, turn-a-kick
a woodchips-flying
kind of fit?
Have you ever heard it wheek
a kind of pippy-squeak,
a high pitch, got-an-itch
a whistle-aching
give-me-treats?
Never think a cavy
is fat and lumpy-lazy.
Grown or pup, size one up…
They’re rodents who’ve gone
piggy-crazy!
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