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