Out West there’s a yarn to tell, just the one or the two,
The parched plains seem to breed the oddest of tale,
Stories about snakes, the roo and the outside loo too, 
But this one’s ‘bout a pig: his love of egg and an ale.

Now my friends I’ll try not to overdo the piggy-type pun,
No porky pies (oops), no tall stories, this one is no bull,
Now from all of my spies, our pig is a very big ’un,
And he drinks most men under till he’s all but full. 

How this pig originated who really knows how,
I won’t bore you with all the theories for now,  
Some say from a feral boar and a domestic sow,
There are some that say his mum was a cow!

Now they say that his looks are so hard to describe,
A mix of black and red and some flecks of off-white, 
He’s as tall as he’s wide, there’s just nothing to hide,
So there’s no chance at all he’ll be taking to flight.

Someone gave the name ‘Homer’ to this gargantuan pig,
No chance he was named after the wise scribe of yore,
So he must have been named after the show that is big,
As that Homer has no manners and will eat off the floor.

A pig of inaction he would stroll down the street, 
And would reach the pub door at four o’ the clock,
He’d always arrive, either in the cold or the heat,
And show he was there with a grunt and a knock.

When inside, being Aussies, the bar would all shout,
They’d share it around for the pig could not pay,
And he’d stick with the best before they threw him all out,
Egg centres and many beers he’d have all put away!

‘Centre of eggs’, you say, have you reason to doubt?
Yes, he’d crack the eggs open with his own massive snout,
And suck the middle out with his cavernous mouth,
Leaving all the whites over as trophy of his rout.

Now the story goes that a bloke from the big smoke,
Had been told of the porker with the liking of egg yellows,
And he thought he would buy Homer before he might croak,
Take him back to the city and brag to all of his work fellows.

Now before the flash dude could bring home the bacon,
As the bid was placed there were frowns all around,
‘Who could take an icon? This guy has to be fakin’!’
And without further adieu he was run out of town.

So news of the guy’s exit got to folk and their relos,
And all of the West now tells this big swine of a joke,
As the pig continues to slurp the beer and egg yellows,
It’s known as the joke ‘bout ‘buying a pig in the yolk’!

© Neil Dufty