Greased Pig

The kids are gathered anxiously
As they wait for the gate to open
And then, without warning
A tiny white blur zips out.
The kiddies giggle and scramble
Around the pen as the squealing rocket
Bounces through buckling legs,
Shoots from beneath falling bodies,
And slips through flailing arms.
The damp dirt is churned into a muddy mess
As cries of "where did it go?"
Echo off nearby sheds.
When it's all over,
The kids are tired but happy
And this little piggie goes "wee, wee"
All the way to the therapist.