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Thread Starter 
Here's my favorite Irish poem about barnyard animals:
It was the Pig Fair last September,
the day I well remember,
I was walking up and down in drunken pride
when my knees began to flutter
and I sank down in the gutter,
and a pig came up and laid down by my side.
As I lay there in the gutter
thinking thoughts I could not utter,
I thought I heard a passing lady say,
"You can tell the man who boozes
by the company that he chooses,"
and with that the pig got up and walked away.


[ March 06, 2003, 04:35 PM: Message edited by: daevious ]