An Acrostic Poem Gyp goes with me everywhere: You’ll find him in church on a Sunday Pillowed upon clean straw, to the east of the altar Muffling his whiffles, reserving grunts of pleasure, Yeasty eructations, for the noisier hymns and carols. Lively and contented, wiggling his quirky tail Over coombes and valleys, he trots behind … Continue reading Gyp My Loving Big Black Pig by Robert Peters