Posted on 3rd Jan 2021
The true story of the Bradford Boar Tell me a true story Granddad About life in the good olden days When gran still had all her own teeth And you weren't so set in your ways. Okay, well I'd just met yer granny At a time when the Dead Sea were living Pontius was not quite a pilot And nobody, had heard of just giving. Gran were a taster for Marmite Her palate refined, no mistake And I worked part time, at the butcher's 'Best seller were dinosaur steak. We lived in a city called Bradford Yorkshire it were, through and through And people were living in terror Of a boar what 'ad bunked it from 'zoo. Now this, to you, may not sound scary A fat bellied, oversized porker But, the tusks on it could 'ave cut glass And it swore like a native New Yorker. Now, to kill it, there were a reward Of maybe three guineas, I think Which then, would by house and a car And a kitchen wi' posh fitted sink. So, eager to make a few bob I come up wi' a dead cunning plan Into Bradford Beck, I would lure it Then chuck it in 'butchering van. Six gallons of custard and gravy In buckets, were laid for a trap I was armed wi' me stick, just in case like Then hid behind 'bush for a nap. The clock on 'Town Hall had struck midnight I woke up, to a blood curdling sound The boar had kicked all 'buckets ovver And were 'aving a reet feast on 'ground. Like a bullet, I sprung from me crouch And pushed it in 'beck wi' me stick Bradford Beck ain't the cleanest of watter And it drownded the boar pretty quick. Now granddad ain't daft, as you know lad I knew I were in for 'reward But I wanted the boar's meat for 'butcher's So I cut out its tongue wi' a sword. The Lord Mayor, well, he were delighted And happy wi' tongue as his proof I bought gran a house with the money Wi' extension that 'ad a flat roof. I became what you might call an 'ero Folk came, from all ovver the land To purchase their Bradford Boar Burgers And say that they'd shaken me hand.