It’s sleazy in the bungling town,
where they get fat without earning
all the swag that they get from biting,
while doing their job they’re spurning.
They are running a scam…a big payday;
the Mafia they’re wowing.
The town’s DC, kleptocracy.
The pig-trough clan keeps chowin’.

Yeah, the pig-trough clan keeps chowin’,
and the clan is taking bites,
as in “mordida” in Spanish…
bunch o’ sleazebags left and right.
Their pocket are never empty—
lot’s o’ dough coming their way.
They’re inured to the pleas
to stop putting the squeeze
on patrons for bling.
Corruption is king
where the pig-trough clan keeps chowin’.

Where the pig-trough clan keeps chowin’,
to the “lobbyists” they beg.
If you want their votes, you’d best bequeath
them the best and leave the dregs
to voters, who to them are moot.
It is purely pay to play.
To this town you go
as a reg’lar Joe
destined for downfall,
to become a ’ho’
in the pig-trough clan that’s chowin’.

When the pig-trough clan’s feast-chowin’,
we never should be shocked;
it’s lobbyists that make the calls—
in return their maws are cocked.
The left and right constantly spat,
but they are one of a kind:
each a crooked crew
who’ll backstab you
’less you plunk down
money, a whole slew
for the pig-trough clan’s feast-chowin’.

Though the pig-trough clan keeps chowin’,
it’s jail they’re rarely in.
Because in the end they will win
regardless of their sin.
They do not live in hovels;
of perks they get their pick.
And they play all day,
never once to stray
do to any work,
and piously smirk.
They’re the pig-trough clan feast-chowin’.

No need to call, without windfall,
on the pig-trough clan feast-chowin’.