I carry your junk, and climb with grace, yet you shout in my stubborn face. I’ll give you sass, you’ll call me an A S S, but truth be told, I’ve got more class. I bray, I kick, I take no flack, but I will still haul you back.

What constantly goes through phases, but always stays the same?

I scurry in shadows and hide in a house, yet glide on a desk like I’m quiet as drowse. I’m tiny, I’m quick, I can click or I can creep. What am I, dancing from floorboards to sleep?

I am the pig of the evergreens. I advise against petting me.

When paired with head I’m messy and unruly, quite unkempt In rivers, lakes, the sea, embracing treasures that may tempt I’m also rather bawdy, older slang for dirty deed From gardens to your very plate, there’s always stuff on me