He was big and tough and mean,
He never bothered shaving
And his pants were never clean...
And treated people bad,
And no-one dared to stop him!
Oh, what an utter cad!
An Indian called his name,
And said:'You're a bad man, Jake,
It's really a shame.'
And you don't give a fig,
But beware that you aren't haunted...
By the devil's herd of pigs!'
And knocked the Indian to the floor,
For Jake thought he was big and tough
And 'way above the law.
And in his sleep he cried -
He dreamed about the devil's herd
The ghost-pigs in the sky!
And rode into a town -
He planned to rob the local bank
And burn the schoolhouse down -
Appeared down the street,
And called on Jake to draw his gun!
There was nowhere to retreat
For he thought he was the best,
He'd never lost a gunfight,
He was the fastest in the west.
Jake gave a litle shout
For the man looked like a devil-pig,
With an eerie piggy snout!
His draw was far too slow,
In seconds he had made his fate,
Shot by his eerie foe!
His life-blood oozed away,
'The haunted little pigs have got me.'
Were the last words he did say.
His foe removed his snout,
And waved to a nearby building
And the Indian came out!
Jake make his fatal error,
And played upon his fear of ghosts
To end his reign of terror!
His bacon had to fry -
He was beaten by a false snout -
And the ghost-pigs in the sky.
