Nature didn’t make’em pretty,
with mottled fur and sneering snouts.
Nature didn’t give’em lovely noises,
all snarls, and squeals, and grunts.
But she knows her job and so,
She made them tough as nuts.

With beady eyes and floppy ears,
they lurk in sounders in the brush.
When hunger overtakes them,
They move on my chickens in a rush.
But this is our farm, and in Texas,
when shove comes to push.
So of course we have a shotgun,
with such insolence to crush.

My wife strode out with robe and gun,
Because she’s a better shot.
Leveled her barrel, pulled the trigger,
And down the biggest boar was brought.
It thrashed and stilled and out of it spilled
A heaping pile of hog-snot.

Now my youngest child pleads and grabs my hand
Daddy don’t let hogs get me, please.
No, baby, never fear hogs on mommy’s land.