Was fastened tight with an iron hook,
And father was down in the fields by the brook,
Hoeing and weeding his rows of corn,
And here was his Dolly, so scared and forlorn.
But I called him, and called him, as loud as I could,
I knew he would hear me—he must and he should—
“O father! O father! (Get out, you old pig.)
O father! oh! oh!” for their mouths were so big.
Then I waited a minute and called him again,
“O father! O father! I am in the pig-pen!”