From the tables down at Half Time Rec,
To the place where Schmitty dwells;
To those dear old campus bars we love so well.
Sing the Little Pigs assembled,
With their glasses raised on high,
And the magic of their voices cast in spell.
Yes, the magic of their voices
And the songs they love so well,
While we’re wasting and cavorting like the rest;
We will serenade our Buca, while life and breath shall last,
And then pass and be forgotten Like the rest.
We are poor Little Piggies, who have lost our way.
Oink. Oink. Oink.
We are bad Little Piggies, who have gone astray.
Oink. Oink. Oink.
Gentleman songsters all are we,
Doomed from here to eternity.
Lord have mercy on such as we.
Oink Oink Oink
The Saint Paul Pigs are on the piss again,
On the piss again, on the piss again,
The Saint Paul Pigs are on the piss again,
Bastards all are we…