- cifra
My father spent fifteen years
Just to teach me how to hold his beer
My father for fifeen years
Was nothing that I'll ever need
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
My mother taught me how to sew
She taught me, how I'll never know
My mother taught me how to read
But my father taught me how to bleed
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
My girl taught me how to drink
My girl taught me how to smoke
My girl of eighteen years
Taught me everything I need to know
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
My dog taught me how to scratch
My dog he rakes and snatch
My dog taught me how to run
Hard through the grass it's the way of the world
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
High on the hog
