Ever hear the story of the Prodigal Pig? It goes like this:
There was a man who had two son
And loved them for they were his own.
The younger said, “Dad, I want my estate,
I think that I’m now fully grown.”
The son left home, went far away,
And spent all he had living high.
A famine then hit and low and behold,
He found himself in a pigsty.
The young man soon came to himself.
He turned to a piggy and said,
“Let’s get out of here and go to my dad.
He’ll see that we’re warm and well-fed.”
The father saw them from afar.
He ran and received them with glee.
He kissed his son, gave the pig a big hug,
And washed them as clean as can be.
He tied a bow around pig’s neck,
And placed a gold ring in his nose.
The father put shoes upon his son’s feet
And gave him a new set of clothes.
Both son and pig sat down to eat.
The boy became full as a tick.
But each time the food was passed to the pig
He cried out, “I’m gonna be sick!
There’s no way I can eat this stuff.
The lack of mud’s drying my skin.
The ring in my nose is just killing me.
I’m going back home to my pen.”
A son may run from his father,
Waste all to try making it big.
He will not stay in the pigsty because
A son is a son, not a pig.
Take care how you judge another,
‘Cause they appear good or look bad.
The one clean may be pig on his way home,
The muddy one, running to dad.