State Fair

So I tied up grandpa’s hog in our Chevy truck and took him down to the city where things is big. I fed him good and then pruned him real nice. What’s the occasion? It’s State-Fair time. 

So we entered our tied-up hog in the competition. Pa says he’s likely to get first prize. “Pa,” I says, “I sure hope he do.” Now the judges come and snoop all about our sty, to rate our hog from one to ten. Up and down, they look him over from head to hoof; and there he sits: all tied up, so nice and round.

Then I pay two coins to play this game where you throw a ball at pasteboard ducks. I end up hittin’ one, so I win a prize, which makes my old gal mighty pleased. So we head to the corndog booth.

But then we notice a farm across the way: its got a sign that says “Have a cow.” And there are horses standing there, dolled up to look like bovines. I think to myself: “Lucky thing I’m wearin’ my good flannels.” So I go and take a gander at the livestock and declare: “This one’s purty.” Then I notice some hogs over in the mud patch all tied up, lookin’ swell and plump. I nudge some feller standin’ nearby and say under my breath “Boy I’d like to roast me some o’ them there critters.” Then I squeal for a chaperone to fetch my kids, as I buy another beer.