This is ATU 2030 The old woman and her pig.
LITTLE OLD WOMAN
Some six years ago (or perhaps it was more)
As a little Old Woman was sweeping her floor
She saw something glisten: and, there on the ground,
Adzookers! a penny of silver found.
To market next morning she fail'd not to jig,
And there, by good chaffering, bought a fine Pig;
Whence the learned assert (and in fact they say true)
That pigs were plenty, and pennies were few.
The Pig it was stubborn, the Pig it was strong;
It squeaked and it struggled the whole way along,
Till they came to a stile -- then good lack! what a pother!
For pig wouldn't go either one way or t'other!
At her wits' end was she, when a Dog came in sight.
"Honest Tray," she exclaimed, "take the trouble to bite
My Pig who won't cross yonder stile to the right;
Or else I shan't get to my cottage tonight!"
"I bite him?" quoth Tray; "sure you're running your rigs,
I'll not injure a hair of his tail, please the pigs,
And I'd have you to know too," he added with smiles,
"They're only lame dogs that I help over stiles."
Upon this she trudged onwards, and chancing to meet
With a Stick, "Be so kind, Stick," says she, "as to beat
That beast of a Dog, who refuses to bite
My Pig who won't cross yonder stile: and I'm quite
Afraid of not reaching my cottage tonight.
But the Stick answered drily, "Both you and your Pig
May go and be hanged, for I'll not stir a twig."
Much vex'd at such rudeness still on went the Dame,
Till seeing a Fire says she, "Mr. Flame,
Oblige me by burning that ill-natured Stick,
Who rudely declares that the Dog he won't lick,
Which refuses me plump Piggy-Wiggy to bite,
Who yon stile won't go over; and now, by this light,
I doubt I shan't get to my cottage tonight."
But the Flame being saucy refused her its aid,
And told her quite spackishly, "Out, you old jade!"
More displeased than before was the testy old wench,
And finding a Puddle, says she, "Pr'ythee quench
With your water that Flame which won't burn up that Stick,
Which won't be so kind as that Dog just to lick,
Which refuses my Pig a few moments to bite,
Which won't cross the stile which (you'll own) isn't right,
Since I can't (if he don't) reach my cottage tonight."
But the Water was sluggish, and said with a frown,
"I'd not stir from this place though yourself 'twere to drown."
By this the Old Woman of anger was full,
And meeting some cattle, made up to a Bull:
Quoth she, "Mr. Bull, be so civil and kind
As to drink up that Puddle which stands close behind,
Which won't quench the Flame which won't burn up the Stick,
Which lazy itself won't that lazy Dog lick,
Which my Pig, though I begged it, refuses to bite,
Who won't cross the stile he's so little polite,
And I fear I shan't get to my cottage tonight."
But the Bull in this business behav'd like a bear,
And bellowed in French, "Allez! Allez, ma Chere!"
The Dame went on till a Butcher she met;
"Mr. Butcher," says she, "be so good just to set
Your knife to the throat of the Bull in your view,
And slit me his windpipe a little in two:
For he won't drink the Water which won't quench the Flame,
Which won't burn the Stick (I declare it's a shame)
Which won't beat the Dog which is greatly to blame,
For it won't bite my Pig, who that stile just in sight
Won't cross, and I shan't reach my cottage tonight."
But the Butcher not only refused, but, in gig,
He asked her, "Pray which of you two is the pig?"
Enrag'd at this insult, a Rope soon she found,
And she dropt it a curtsey quite down to the ground:
Quoth she, "Madam Rope, let me beg and entreat,
That you'll follow the Butcher who went down that street,
And hang him up neatly; his brains are so muddle,
That he won't kill the Bull who won't drink up the Puddle,
Which won't quench the Flame which won't burn up the Stick,
Which won't be so kind as that Dog just to lick,
Which won't be so civil my Pig just to bite
Till he crosses the stile, though the trouble's so slight,
And now I shan't get to my cottage tonight."
"To follow him now," quote the Rope, "I've no leisure;
But I'll hang up yourself with a great deal of pleasure."
Still on trudg'd the Dame till a Rat she espied,
Peeping out of his hole. "Little Whiskers," she cried,
"Pray gnaw yonder Rope, of ill-breeding so full,
That it won't hang the Butcher who won't kill the Bull,
Which won't drink the Water which won't quench the Flame,
Which won't burn the Stick which is greatly to blame,
For it won't beat the Dog which my Pig will not bite,
Which won't cross the stile let me say 'Black' or 'White,'
And I fear I shan't get to my cottage tonight."
But the Rat (who it seems was a cynical elf)
Replied, "Gnaw the Rope? Go and gnaw it yourself."
She was quite in despair when espying a Cat.
She exclaimed in a passion, "Puss, eat up that Rat,
Who won't gnaw yonder Rope who a saint would provoke,
For it won't take the trouble the Butcher to choke,
Who won't take the trouble the Bull just to slaughter,
Who won't take the trouble to drink up the Water,
Which won't quench the Flame, which won't burn the Stick,
Which refuses that vile mangy Cur just to lick,
Which for all I can say Piggy-Wiggy won't bite,
Who won't cross the stile out of obstinate spite,
And I fear I shan't get to my cottage tonight."
MORAL.
No finger stirs, in vain you kneel and sue,
The work brings benefit to none but you:
Must, to exert themselves, your friends be won?
Make it their interest, and the work is done!
No objection was made by the liquorish Cat
Who began without speaking to eat up the Rat
Who as brisly began the Rope for to gnaw
Which began round the Butcher its noose to draw
Who kicking began the Bull for to slaughter
Who in haste began to swallow the Water,
Which began to extinguish the Flame as quick,
Which began that moment to burn the Stick,
Which began in a hurry the Dog to lick
Who began post haste the Pig to bite,
Who began to jump over the stile in a fright,
And so the old woman got home that night.
For a somewhat different, see The Life and Correspondence of M.G. Lewis, Volume 1 (1839): The True History of the Little Old Woman Who Found a Silver Penny (online at Google Books).
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