My three sons

My youngest son's name was Bob,

He was such a dirty slob;

He made his house out of straw -

Dumbest thing I ever saw.


One day Bob hosted a bash -

He invited me, how brash!

"It will be such a corker!"

That stupid little porker.


The wolf came that night, of course;

He took the party by force.

He ate Bob and all his friends -

Must have been a nasty blend.


Joe we named the middle son -

He was such a simple one.

He made his home out of sticks,

Can you believe it? How thick.


We begged: use something stronger,

Bricks would last so much longer!

But did he listen to us?

No, bricks would be too much fuss.


Those twigs couldn't stop a fly,

Much less a wolf's hungry sigh.

So Joe's wooden walls did fall,

Wolf ate him up, sticks and all.


Our eldest lad's name is Lee -

Oh he's such a smart piggy!

Lee listened to us right quick -

He built his house brick by brick.


When that big bad wolf arrived

We heard only one survived;

It was not that stupid beast:

Lee was not hurt in the least.


Now I really must be off:

Lee's prepared a lovely trough.

You'll be joining us, won't you?

Dinner is a nice wolf stew.

The End

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