SWINE SONG

My family thought they got a pig in a poke when they picked the runt of the litter.
However else they may feel, I know that they’re not bitter.
They would not have doubted me, if only they had known,
that I was very good at using a smartphone.
When I use my analytical left brain, I type using my right hoof.
Just look at the screen and speech bubble if you want more proof.
I flirt using my intellect, and diagrams mathematic.
The reaction is unexpected, and so very dramatic.
I find myself featured quite often on television,
as folks’ opinions of shoats undergo revision.
My right brain makes my left hoof go creative and artistic,
and peoples’ understanding of them can be mystic or simplistic.
Stereotyped as living in a sty and chowing down on slops,
I am a handsome devil, a ham with great acting chops.
If all you see when you look at me is a giant slab of bacon,
I can assure you that you are very sadly mistaken.
My mama stands behind the scenes and lets me hog the glory,
because it’s time to let a clever piglet tell the world his story.
I’m also a budding porker poet, so maybe it’s not too late
to reassess your opinion of a smart and rhyming ungulate.