I’d hate to be a snake— when I’m trying to escape, I’d worry about my tail, left far back on the trail. Sticking out there to be nabbed, far too easy to be grabbed, even if I’m 'round a bend, it’d be my sorry end!
I’d hate to be a cow, I’ll tell you that right now, to rise early every dawn— sleepy, weary and forlorn. To have milked a bulging udder, in cold that makes you shudder, while my little calf is fed, with packaged milk instead!
But I’d love to be a hog, it wouldn’t be hard slog, ‘cos I’d be riding high, living in my messy sty. Muckin’ around in slush and mud, caked in all that mush and crud, no telling me to behave, or that I really need to bathe!
Source of images: http://clipart-library.com
Burnside Writers Group 