As I recall, this piece was the result of an exercise the group did on the single occasion that we met at the Yacht Inn down on the prom in Penzance. What the exercise was, I cannot recall, the but outcome is rather fun!
The button-eyed pigs rode the roundabout round and around and around. They rode the roundabout till their heads span and their button-eyes popped, like the little buttons on the farmer’s shirt when he’d eaten too much pudding.
Pudding with treacle and jam, that’s what the farmer liked. Not just treacle and not just jam. Both. And custard. And cream. Clotted cream all yellow and chewy. No wonder the farmer’s shirt-buttons popped.
But the button-eyed pigs didn’t want to think about the farmer. They wanted to ride their roundabout. The children screamed at them and the mums and dads shouted, but the button-eyed pigs didn’t care.
The button-eyed pigs rode around and around until the rain came down, though the sun was still out, and that’s when they squinted up and blinked their button-eyes…
…and saw the rainbow’s end.
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