Back in 1951 we were raising a pig on our mini farm. We named him but for the life of me I can’t remember what…something like George or Tom or Bill I’m sure. He loved to have his back scratched with a long stick, he loved it so much he would moan with pleasure. And a reminder for all who don’t know, people still “dressed up” back then to go places, in my Dad’s case that would have been a suit with dress shirt and tie and a hanky in the pocket (for crying females), and his very best (shined) shoes with socks.
Daddy dressed in his Sunday best,
Was once put sorely to the test,
The fattened pig had escaped his jail,
And must be caught without fail.
Through the trees piggy did run,
Dad’s shirt was torn, not fun,
Piggy was caught and I must say,
He never again got out to play.
Another in the Childhood Memories Series
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