ODE TO A ROASTED PIG
I think that we shall never see An event so special it can be, A day for fellowship untold, As people gather round "the hole." To gaze at one defenseless pig, Bound up in wire and homemade rig. A sight of wonderment, great appeal. Where Animal Rights have lost their zeal. We meet all over once each year. To honor tradition and to cheer. We lift a "can" to toast "the boar." And then we lift and lift some more. We come from VA-CAR and T-V-A. Each company sends their reps to play. Entergy, Southern, and Gateway too, Complete the cast that grew and grew. The "cookers" rise up in the dark. They make their way to a secluded park. They dig a hole or build a pit With heads still giving them a fit. The procedure is defined high-tech. The supply list is extreme, complex. The sauce is radical at best, And the ribs are used as the acid test. After all the wonderful plans are laid, Pig Roasters still are born - not made. We may act like fools, both small and big, But only God can make the pig.
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