The Ballad of Barlot's Victory

Barlot set out one night in spring
A mount, he sought to buy
He fancied riding in the ring
Astride his brute ally

His eyes danced o'er the trainer's pen
He spied the perfect swine
Ten silvers passed between the men
"Victory," he cried, "be mine!"

The pair shot through the bloody gate
Barlot's heart primed for the fight
He spurred the hog toward the fete
But the beast instead took flight

"Ah me," lamented poor Barlot
"A mounted warrior, I'll not be.
"A merchant's life I'll give a go
With gentle Victory."

Piled with wares, the trusty pig
Steered toward the village square,
But feral turned and flipped the rig
Before he got them there.

So might end a sadder tale
If a lesser Guinecean faced
But Barlot loved the bacon's smell
And Victory had good taste.

From Attack Pigs to Pack Pigs to Snack Pigs: A Collective Work By Richter the Sage, Bard of Lumiere

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