The Eve of the Hog
The eve of the hog
T'is the eve of the hog
And I'll sleep like a log
For tomorrow's the day
When the hog comes to say
What the weather will be
For the rest of the year
I shudder to think
What the hog will predict
Six more weeks of winter
Or will spring quickly hither
They call him Phil, and he's the prognosticator
Of when the weather will change to the primavera
He's not a bat, a ferret, or mouse
His home's Punxsutawney
And he lives in a house
He'll poke his head out, and might see his shadow
Then run in and burrow, like something's the matter
We can all hope the hog will hasten the summer
Cuz without this day, life'd be a bummer
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