Abigail Biggs’ Pig

Living in Massachusetts,
Here in 1693,
No secret that the neighbors,
Weren’t very fond of me.

I wasn’t much for kind words,
Or roosters that crowed at dawn,
Or the way their animals,
Went grazing on my lawn.

But I guess my biggest gripe,
Was with old Abigail Biggs,
Who couldn’t seem to control,
The behavior of her pig.

Every day I’d say to her,
“Abigail this can not be,
You’ve got to keep your dumb swine,
The hell off my property!”

But Abbey wouldn’t listen,
And back on my lawn he’d tread,
Until one day that dumb old pig,
He dropped right over dead.

But I saw her little kids,
Outside the day before,
Where they fed poison ivy,
To that unsuspecting boar.

Those kids should have been punished,
For being such little brats,
But instead, next thing I knew,
I was in jail for witchcraft.

And while I was in prison,
Abigail would catch my sight,
I said, “I didn’t do this,
Please say something, make it right!”

But Abigail ignored me,
So I continued to yell,
“You know the good Lord sees you,
And He’ll send you straight to hell!”

But after months of waiting,
Finally the bell would toll,
And there I was facing down,
My old friend the Gallows Pole.

I looked to my audience,
It’s a lucky thing I did,
When I spied no other than,
My dear friend Abigail Biggs.

I gave her my best evil eye,
Which she could not ignore,
Yet it was a might too late,
When she timidly came forth.

The rope tightened on my neck,
And my arms began to twitch,
She said “I think you misheard me,
The word I used was b-”

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