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I caught a
turtle and a frog,
And then I tried to catch a hog,
But it would fight and make a squeal,
I didn't know how it would feel.
I thought
that it would play with me,
But it just wanted to be free,
To roll around in sloppy mud,
I loved this pig; I called it Bud.
Though it
was just a simple hog,
I tried to treat it like a dog,
I wanted it to chase a bone,
But it would rather rub a stone.
So I went
out to catch a hen,
And keep it in a little pen,
So I could hold it close to me,
And keep this chicken on my knee.
But all
it did was flap around,
(It was a chicken, not a hound),
And it would rather peck in dirt,
I loved this hen; I called it Gert.
So I went
out and bought a dog,
Which was much better than a hog,
And softer than a big, white hen,
I love this dog; I call it Ben.
It loves
to sit upon my knee,
Where it can feel content and free,
It doesn't peck or roll in mud,
It's better than old Gert or Bud.
And we
are now the best of friends,
And will be when this story ends,
The hog and chicken were okay,
But Ben and I are here to stay.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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