| Here’s a little song about four wet pigs,
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| Just a little song about four wet pigs,
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| Two are little, two are big,
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| they’re all dancing at the Mud-time jig.
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| The two that are little, little as an ear of corn
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| The two that are big, well they’re bigger than a barn,
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| bigger than a barn, taller than a tree,
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| Truck’em on down to the factory.
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| Cut 'em into bacon, slice 'em into ham,
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| chop 'em into hot dogs, squeeze 'em into spam.
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| Throw their little eyes out in the rain,
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| throw their little eyes out in the rain,
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| throw their beady little piggy eyes out into the rain.
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| Pickle their feet and pickle their brains.
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| Here’s a little song about two wet pigs,
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| standing at the slop trough, smoking their cigs,
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| wishing to god they’d never get big
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| dancing out their hearts at the Mud-time jig.
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| Wishing to god they’d never get big,
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| and dancing out their hearts.
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| Dance little porkers! |