I saw three black pigs riding
In a blue and yellow cart;
Three black pigs riding to the fair
Behind the old grey dappled mare,
But it wasn't black pigs riding
In a gay and gaudy cart
That sent me into hiding
With a flutter in my heart.

I heard the cart returning,
The jolting jingling cart;
Returning empty from from the fair
Behind the old jogtrotting mare
But it wasn't the returning 
Of a clatt'ring empty cart,
That sent the hot blood burning
And throbbing thro' my heart.