"By gow!" sed Billy, to hissen,
"This pig _must_ be a prize!"
An' th' wimmen cried, "Gooid gracious fowk!
But isn't it a size?"

Then th' chaps sed, "Billy, where's ta been?
Whativer has ta browt?
That surely isn't crayture, lad,
Aw heeard 'em say tha'd bowt?
It luks moor like a donkey,
Does ta think 'at it con rawt?"
But Billy crack'd his carter's whip.
An' answered' em wi' nowt.

An' reight enuff it war a pig,
If all they say is true,
Its length war five foot eight or nine,
Its height wor four foot two;
An' when it coom to th' pig hoil door,
He couldn't get it through,
Unless it went daan ov its knees,
An' that it wodn't do.

Then Billy's mother coomed to help,
An' hit it wi' a mop;
But thear it wor, an' thear it seem'd
Detarmined it 'ud stop;
But all at once it gave a grunt,
An' oppen'd sich a shop;
An' finding aat 'at it wor lick'd,