Walk’in down the lane from school,
Show’in off for third grade pals.
Laughing, carefree, daredevil kids,
But not one, rode a full grown sow.
I bragged and I bragged, of my bravery,
Ride’in Mama sow in her sty.
My boasting for naught, to my classmates,
Until seeing it, with their own eyes.
Our farm was first, along the dirt road,
We headed straight for her pen.
There Hilda laid, unsuspecting a show,
I promised to all of my friends.
I hopped a wood fence, ran towards the sow,
Hilda jumped to her feet in surprise.
Grabbing long hairs on the rear of her neck,
I leaped on her back for the ride.
She squealed like a banshee, bucked like a bull,
Hanging on to those hairs with both arms.
Ride’in the Sow, was my claim to fame,
Until Hilda ran under the barn.