We all know the story of the three little pigs— Two built houses of straw and twigs; Not wanting to work in the heat and the sun, They chose instead to play and have fun. And they mocked the third pig for his planning and care When he laid out a structure that was sturdy and square. For he didn’t fall for the quick, flimsy fix, But carefully built a house made of bricks.
Out of the darkness comes the sound— A scraping and gnawing and scurrying around. Damage and destruction is all he makes, He never gives but always takes. In the shadows and corners he will hide, A tiny field mouse that snuck inside.
In this earth’s existence, it’s 11:59, Yet the world races onward, like everything is fine. And people seem to say “Eat, drink, and let’s be merry!” Even the “faithful” dally with, “We see the bridegroom tarry.”
Lehonti was a Lamanite protected on a mount, Surrounded by defenders even more than he could count; But Amalickiah’s message flattered him in part, And so he left security for vanity of heart. Yet flattery turned fatal so remember, won’t you please? How subtly and slowly he was poisoned by degrees.
“Come into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly. “There’s a special treat I would love you to try, And a prettier parlor you never will see. . . Come in, come in, and dine with me!” So goes an old story of deception and lies; You know how it ends—one of them dies.