It made me really sick when I did see him arrive
I knew that our liberties would take a dive
He was supposed to be helming the Justice ship,
But every night they caught him in the sheep dip, diggin' on.
Dig on, dig lamb, John.

Soon everyone would know why he was called "Ram Bone"
He was a right-to-lifer, but he liked lamb clone.
He didn't say much, kinda quiet and shy
But he would really squeal out in the sty, did pig John.

There's no doubt about it, he wasn't lean,
And some folks hinted he was a closet queen.
Gave a crashing blow to a huge tight ham,
So they gave him the nickname "Farmyard Gland," pig John.
Pig John, pig-ram John

And then one day, in the bottom of a swine,
Well, his timber cracked and near broke the spine.
At that moment, the hog passed gas,
And that's when John started breathing fast, pig John.
Pig John, pig-waft John.

Through the dust and smoke of this ham-made swell
John discovered he kinda liked the smell.
Grabbed his saggin' timber and gave a groan,
Then stuck his nose way up where light ain't shone, pig John.
Pig, John, pig-mad John.

And with all of his strength he gave a mighty shove,
And his tongue was wrapped as in a tight kid glove.
But he got it movin' and started to lave;
He left it cleaner than Donald Rumpsfelt's cave, swig, John.

When he'd lapped that hammer, his tongue backed out,
Then he found a comebull and enjoyed a spout.
But when smoke and gas had belched from that swine,
Then he knew he'd found a new place to dine, pig out, John,
Pig, John, pig out, John.

God be praised, we are losin' that worthless sh*t.
Back to Missouri. . .wallow in a hog pit.
No few turds are bitten by that man:
In the bottom of a swine dines a big pig fan.
Pig's gone, pig John's gone.