The day's performance was closed by chasin' a greased pig.

The hog was well greased and let loose, and the whole lot of fat men
started pell-mell.

It was "Root hog, or die" with the odds in favor of the Hog.

All of a sudden, the hog turned back, and the fat men coulden't stop,
when down they all fell on top of poor piggy, smashin' him flatter'n a
pancake.

The bystanders were startin' for derricks and jack-screws to raise the
fat men off from each other.

"Hold on," says I, "I know a trick worth 2 of that."

I rusht into the house, and ceasin' the dinner-bell, rung it as hard as
I could.

It delited me, in my old age, to see them chaps scrabble when they heard
that bell.

In 10 seconds time, only one member of the pile diden't git up, and
rise, and that was the hog.

It was a cruel deception--but I believe the mean trick justifide the
end, and saved the Bord of Helth a big bill of expense. For sure's
you're borned, it would have been a meesely old job, cartin' of that big
pile of corrupshun.