It's been so hot around my part a' th' woods, my old hide ain't nothin' but near 'bout cracklin's. I come up th'ough a li'l ol' brushy patch one even'in' last week, tryin' t' stay in th' shade all I could, when I run into a old boar I used t' know, way back down on th' lower end a' Dugdemony.
We got t' talkin' about th' weather an' first one thing an' another, an he told me they was several litters a' young shoats down on his end a' th' creek that didn' know what rain was. He said th' ol' hawgs was thinkin' about givin' them young rascals some schoolin' in hawg b'havior b'fore they got grown and couldn' be learnt nothin', but they couldn' find a'nuff water in th' creek t' even stir up a waller hole t' hold a class in hawg hygiene.
They h'yeard about some pea patches an' corn rows around th' countryside, but when they hunted 'em up, them shoats balked at takin' rootin' lessons in sich a bed 'a dust.
They all come up th' tracks th'ough Winnfield one night an' seen a bunch 'a them dern concrete hawgs standin' around, and decided they wadn't nothin' they' druther do than t' git in shape an' make th' team t' go up ag'inst them hawg dawgs at th' Uncle Earl's next year, an' t' heck with learnin' t' be real hawgs like their old-time kinfolks. I rek'n next thing y' know, they'll be after one a' them smart phones an' spend their dern time textin' an' listen'in t' Jon Stewart and turn out plum worthless.