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Gerturde the Pig
Gertrude was a large pig,
She dreamed to replace the queen,
She would have been suited for the job,
As Gertrude was just as clean.
She couldn’t stand to roll in the mud,
She never looked a mess,
Her hooves were neat and shiny,
And she always wore a dress.
The fluff on her head was always curled,
So she was pretty for a pig,
And when she practised wearing a crown,
She sometimes wore a wig.
“Move out the way you pigs,” she called,
“And all bow for me,
For you all need to practise
As I’ll be the next queen- you’ll see!”
“Yeah right,” All the pigs moaned
“That dress is an awful squeeze!
You can’t fool us, for you’re a pig too
And you have just as many fleas!”
Humph! Gertrude stormed off,
“My fun they always have to spoil,
They will all eat their words,
When I become a royal.”
Gertrude kept herself clean for years,
Near the mud she was never seen,
For she always wanted to look her best,
Encase the farm was visited by the queen.
One day Gertrude wore her crown,
Pranced around with a little spin,
She lost her balance on her high heels,
Toppled near the mud and fell in.
From nowhere the trumpets sounded,
Two heels stepped out with a thud,
The queens feet swept from under her,
As she too slipped into the mud.
“Oh no,” The queen sighed,
But all Gertrude felt was glee,
“It’s ok my Queeny dear,
Not too different you and me, are we?” |
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