I am a man of hoggish wallow;
I get muddy all the day.
I really smell--I'm gross and yucky,
'cause on a farm's where I was raised.

('cause on a farm's where he was raised.)

For six corn ears I fight to gobble,
But there's no beer here on the ground.
Porkers' tails curl like screws for bottles
In which a Frenchman's "milk" is found.

(In which a Frenchman's "milk" is found.)

It's air-reek smell as you'll discover
When I enter the house and stain
Floors, ties, gowns shoes. . .sty shmutz by the pail load,
And people cry long's I remain.

(And people cry: "Please don't remain!)

"Euw! Man-bête reek seems like pee-stained alley--
Don't want you here--please go away!
Or else learn to scrub the mud off,
'cause you are reeking worse than day-
time TV. What more can we say?"

(TV that runs during the day.)

Many of my friends feed at a manger
Daintily, as if with a fork.
But I am slop-hoggish when it's given:
I eat at trough and gorge with pork.

(He eats at trough, gorges with pork.)