GOOD neighbors all attend to me,
And hear an Indian's pedigree;
'Twas when the Savior of mankind,
Had left the world of light behind.

Submitted to a mortal birth,
And preach'd glad [tiding?] here on earth,
'Twas order'd that the eternal mind,
[paper torn, and most of the line is illegible] mankind.

His kingdom now was overthrown,
And all his power on earth was gone:
Tho' Satan was put to his trumps,
He did not long sit in the dumps.

But he contriv'd another plan
To keep his influence still with man,
Since he so long on earth did dwell,
'Twas hard to be confin'd to hell.

He thought he would a race create,
And human creatures imitate,
Who being all inclin'd to evil,
Should be fit servants to the Devil.

When in the land of Gardarene,
Our Savior had the legions seen,
His presence all the Devils fear'd,
They could not stand the power of God.

Upon the hills and mountains high,
A herd of swine was feeding nigh,
Satan to cover his design,
Pray'd he might enter in the swine.

And that he might more private be,
He drove them all into the sea,
But one old sow a rooting was,
Which suited well the Devil's cause.

And being minded to enjoy her,
He did not with the rest destroy her.
But took her up across his back,
As Sawney's Indians do their pack.

Then spread his wings and thro' the sky,
To Stoughton's corner he did fly,
And with this sow in pleasure sweet,
A race of Indians did beget.

A race perverse and prone to evil,
The one half hog, the other Devil,
Who many years roving about,
On Stoughton plains did grunt and root.

They by degrees their brussels [bristles] shed,
Their ears grew short, more round their head,
And still to make them more compleat,
They were adorn'd with human feet.

And in succeeding generations,
They all have mix'd with other nations,
The Devil's kingdom now is spread,
Where'er an Indian shews his head.
Hogs we all know, who're blest with light,
To scratch and rub their sides delight,
This is the natural reason which
Makes all true Indians have the itch.
So surely no one will deny it,
For honestly they all came by it:
Indians are of a restless mind,
And are to travel much inclin'd.
Remembering still their ancient mother,
Where'er they go they herd together.