The Four Little Pigs Of Rundle Mall

Rundle Mall is a place full of hustle and bustle. There are people rushing up and down, doing their shopping, perhaps meeting someone at the silver balls or having a coffee at one of the cafes. There is a lot to do in the mall, and a lot to see and I recommend taking your camera.

If you were to walk through Rundle Mall, don’t be surprised if you were to come across four very life like bronze pigs. These very pigs are a constant source of wonder for many Mall visitors and it’s all due to their creator. Marguerite Derricourt is a brilliant sculptor and she did a remarkable job which is why they have become such an attraction for our visitors. Why don’t I introduce you to our special friends.

There is Oliver who is forever foraging for food.

Then there is Horatio, the sitting pig in the background that is begging for food.

Augusta is forever giving the kids rides.

And of course let’s not forget Truffles who is always just standing around like a typical council worker. Damn me if I didn’t forget to snap a shot of him. Or could it be because he flew the coup, but then pigs don’t fly do they?

There was a time in days gone by
When men were men and pigs didn’t fly
Now many women profess to say
These days are gone and men must pay

For all the times they raised the ceiling
That left the women’s senses reeling
For every time he forgot to open the door
And for the times she was left wanting more

For every occasion he left the toilet seat up
Because he never learnt to wash his own cup
The fact that the poor soul did confess
When asked, “Does my butt look big in this dress?”

For every anniversary he did forget
And every time he got her upset
Like when Valentines Day did not come
Because he was at the pub with his chum

So I am warning all you men out there
If you know one you better say a prayer
Because women have had it up to here
And all we will be left with is our beer

But shit, that’s cool because beer’s real good
And maybe the problem women never understood
Is that men are men until they die
And pigs will never learn to fly.

I just thought I would throw in that poem by an unknown Aussie Poet.

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Make my day and shout me a beer.

Tagged with: poem

Filed under: Adelaide the City

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