Ten little cabbages. Ten little pink pigs.
Ten times the whistle-man, whittled whistle twigs.
Whistle for the pigs, boy, whistle for the pigs.
Whistle till the cows come home, wearing piggy wigs.
Ten great big cabbages. Ten chickens lay eggs.
Everything time a chicken lays, the whistle-man begs.
Begs for an omelet. Begs for dancing eggs.
Begs for the cows to come, dancing on two legs.
Why not a rooster? Why not a hen?
Why not a rabbit-pirate, shooting up the pen?
Why does the whistle-man whistle piggies in?
Where has the rooster gone? How high? And when?
Ten little dancing piggies, et up all the omelets.
I wish they’d et up all these words, then they’d make sense.
One thought on ““Ten – Nonsense on the Farm. A Sonnet. Sort Of.””
You had me there, dancing through the barnyard, and you the whistle man–or pied piper–until, KABOOM!