A Pigmas Carol

Every now and then, something comes along that’s just too good not to share—and this little gem, A Pigmas Carol, is one of those things. Written by Jean’s sister (clearly a woman after my own heart), it’s a barnyard parody worthy of Charles Dickens himself—if Dickens had owned pigs, that is.

The moment I read it, I could practically hear the chorus of snorts, grunts, and squeals coming from the pigpen. If you’ve ever been around pigs at feeding time, you know exactly how accurate this carol is. The excitement, the chaos, the sheer joy of impending slop—it’s like Black Friday at the trough. You could feed them at the exact same time every day, and somehow, they still act like it’s a complete surprise.

Let’s break it down. “Hark! The Herald Piggies squeal, here it comes, our next slop meal!”—that’s not poetry, that’s journalism. Pure, factual reporting. “We each try to get it first, rinds of bacon and liverwurst”—and if that line doesn’t make you laugh out loud, you haven’t met a pig. Nothing fazes them. They’d eat a shoe if it smelled like gravy.

Then there’s my favorite part: “Jostle the bucket, make it fall, so farmer, too, can wear it all.” Oh yes, that’s the true Pigmas spirit right there—generosity, teamwork, and just enough mischief to make sure everyone goes home wearing eau de slop.

I can picture the whole scene—mud flying, pigs jostling for position, and one lucky farmer standing there, drenched and defeated, muttering something festive under his breath.

So this holiday season, forget the angel choir and picture instead a pen full of happy hogs, squealing out their own joyful noise. Because really, nothing says Christmas quite like A Pigmas Carol. And if you listen closely on a cold December morning, you just might hear it being sung live—right from the trough.

Written by the sister of Jean. Sung to the tune of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing:

Hark! the Herald Piggies squeal, here it comes, our next slop meal!
We each try to get it first, rinds of bacon and liverwurst.
Sour milk and cracked up eggs, bits of veggies and chicken legs.
Jostle the bucket, make it fall, so farmer, too, can wear it all.
Hark! The Herald Piggies squeal, here it comes, our next slop meal!

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©2009 Sandy Davis | American Way Farm