I couldn’t believe
What I had did
When I lost the lid
To a bottle I swigged
While I danced to a gig
Known as the “Jig”
Down at a place
In the woods well hid
Where good-tymes hailed
At a bar called the Skid
When out of the swamp
There came a man
Who on his head
Was wearing a wig
He wanted to know
What dance I did
I said where I’m from
It’s called the “Jig”
He asked if he could
And together we did
When out from my bottle
He took a swig
Then he turnt and fell
Over something big
As it turned out
Was a pulled-pork pig
I said not to worry
It’s part of the gig
And so we danced
For a time to the “Jig”
Honestly though
Even as we did
I turned the bottle
And away did swig
And to keep from slippin’
Reached out hard
And grabbed at the “Chicken”
Who managed somehow
To escape the kitchen
And late that night
In Louisiana
As we danced away
We finished with
“Oh, Susannah”
A handful of us:
The man in the wig,
The pulled-pork pig,
And missing from the kitchen
The one-legged woman
They called “Chicken”
