The chicken was involved, but the pig, he was committed!
I'll say:
“The Porker’s Last Will and Testament” by Petrus Lambecius
(V. Barnab. Brissonium de Formulis lib. VII, p. 677) [ex Lister, 1705, p. 196; Lister, 1709, p. 236].
“I, M. Grunter Corocotta Porker, do hereby make my last will and testament. Incapable of writing in my own hand, I have dictated what is to be set down:
“The Chief Cook sayeth: ‘Come here, you—who has upset this house, you nuissance, you porker! I’ll deprive you of your life this day!’
“Corocotta Porker sayeth: ‘What, perchance, have I done? In what way, please, have I sinned? Have I with my feet perhaps smashed your crockery? I beg of you, Mr. Cook, I entreat you, if such be the case, kindly grant the supplicant a reprieve.’
“The Chief Cook sayeth: ‘Go over there, boy! Fetch me from the kitchen that slaughtering-knife. I’m just itching to give this porker a blood-bath!’
“Mr. Porker, realizing that this is the season when cabbage sprouts are abundant, and visualizing himself potted and peppered, and furthermore seeing that death is inevitable, asks for time and begs of the cook whether it was possible to make a will. This granted, he calls out with a loud voice to his parents to save for them the food that was to have been his own in the future, to wit:
“To my father, Mr. Genuine Bacon-Fat, appointed by me in my last will I give and bequeath: thirty measures of acorns; and to my mother, Mrs. Old-Timer Sow, appointed by me in my last will, I give and bequeath: forty measures of Spartan wheat; and to my sister, Cry-Baby, appointed by me in my last will, whose wedding, alas! I cannot attend, I give and bequeath: thirty measures of barley; and of my nobler parts and property I give and bequeath, to the cobbler: my bristles; to the brawlers, my jaw-bones; to the deaf, my ears; to the shyster lawyers, my tongue; to the cow-herds, my intestines; to the sausage makers, my thighs; to the ladies, my tenderloins; to the boys, my bladder; to the girls, my little pig’s tail; to the dancers, my muscles; to the runners and hunters, my knuckles; to the hired man, my hoofs; and to the cook—though not to be named—I give and bequeath and transmit my belly and appendage which I have dragged with me from the rotten oak bottoms to the pig’s sty, for him to tie around his neck and to hang himself with.
“I wish to erect a monument to myself, inscribed with golden letters: ‘M. Grunter Corocotta Porker lived nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine years, and had he lived another half year, a thousand years would have been nearly completed.’
“I ask of you who love me best, you who live like me, I ask you: will not my name remain to be eulogized in all eternity? if you only will prepare my body properly and flavor it well with good condiments, nuts, pepper and honey!
“My master and my relatives, all of you who have witnessed this execution of my last will and testament, you are requested to sign.
“(Signed) Hard Sausage Match Maker Fat Bacon Bacon Rind Celsinus Meat Ball Sprout Cabbage.”
Thus far the story by Petrus Lambecius. The fifth of the signatories of the Porker’s Testament is Celsinus; and since the other names are fictitious it is quite possible that Lambecius had a special purpose in pointing out the man for whom the dish, Porcellus Celsinianus,—Suckling Pig à la Celsinus—was named.
Celsinus was counsellor for Aurelianus, the emperor.
“The chicken was involved, but the pig, he was committed!”
Unlike that guy (or girl) who said they so loved you they would die for you, but didn’t.... Bacons DID die for you.
Bacons love is real.
Omg, I haven’t thought about that story in quite a while. My then boyfriend (now husband) had a college professor that told the story of the chicken and the pig in order to get his students to commit to a certain project, and to not just be a contributor.
I have used that same story for lessons with our children, though that was many moons ago, and when the professor’s story was still fresh in my mind. I’m going to have to use one that from time to time again.