I started this story a few years ago, but never got past the title and first line.
Last night I decided to go with the flow.
This is the result!
Could someone please tell me who this playful entity is?

~ There’s a Pig on My Porch ~

There’s a pig on my porch, and I’m wondering why,
He’s not on a farm, in his own piggy sty!
He’s so pink and chubby, I wish he could stay,
But I think he wandered… then he lost his way.

There’s a pig on my porch and he’s squealing so loud,
He’s calling his Mom, but he’s drawing a crowd!
People came running from inside their houses,
In pajamas and trousers, unbuttoned blouses.

“Who put that pig on your porch, Mrs. Brown?”
I don’t know, I just found him here, sitting around.
He's crying for Mama, but she can’t be found,
Just then the earth trembled… Big Mama thundered DOWN!

A pig moving like blazes, running over the hill,
Her razor sharp moves, amazes me still.
Parting the crowd, like the big Red Sea,
There she stood on the porch…looking up at me.

All five hundred pounds, could have had me for lunch.
My half-naked neighbors, maybe for brunch!
I wasn’t quite sure, what to do for a Sow,
But I was SO ready, to do something now.

I knew she was cunning and quick with her moves,
Big Mama impatiently rustled her hooves.
Her eyes had the look of a calculating mind.
I knew this here pig, was of a different kind!

We stood there eye to eye and looked each other up and down,
Big Mama kind-of snickered, as I watched her, pound for pound,
Trotting down the steps, a sneer was still across her face.
I knew this pig was trouble, when she showed up at my place.

A crafty Southern Sow with speed, few folks will ever know.
A pig with a bad attitude, her piglets all in tow
Then like a streak of lightning, she moved in for the kill,
Eating neighbor’s robes and slippers, till big Mama had her fill.

Naked neighbors hiding, just to see what would ensue,
Freezing in the bushes, turned my shrubs a lovely blue.
She ate until the neighbors, had not a single thread,
Then burped and had a breathmint, just before Big Mama fled.

Fear was running rampant, as she leaped onto her feet,
Squealing loud, as she laid hoof, all the way up Porky street,
Late in the night I still hear her, squealing her evil squeal,
Leaving behind a pig on my porch, too slow to run up the hill.
So we named him Bill!

COPYRIGHT©2004 BONNIE TORRENTE