“He didn’t seem to think it was, certainly, Sir,” I said.
“No,” said he, laughing; “did you ever hear such a song as he made? No animal can talk like a pig. He can scold or remonstrate just as well as a Christian. Any one who knows the language can tell you just what he is saying. Well,” he went on, “I see you don’t believe me; now I will go and hear what he has to say about this proceeding, and give you it word for word.”
This was what he gave me afterwards, with the other songs he had promised me:—
THE LAY OF THE HUNTED PIG.
“Vathers, mothers, mothers’ zons!
You as loves yer little wuns!
Happy pegs among the stubble,
Listen to a tale of trouble;