If you hear a loud 'whoosh'

In the African bush

And an animal comes to the fore

Who is basically pig

But more hairy and big

You will know you have met with a Boar

You are glued to the spot;

Will he kill you or not?

No need to have fears about that

Now he's made you stand fast

And you're cornered at last

All he wants is a nice little chat

But don't be misled;
Soon you'll wish you were dead

That instead he was after your gore

For Oh, Oh what a bore he is, what a thundering thumping bore!

In monotonous grunts he will tell you of hunts

Where for days he'd eluded the field

He will tell you his sow should be farrowing now

And enlarge on her annual yield

He will say with an air, that for brushing the hair

His bristle's the elegant thing

And proudly confide they are after his hide

For no less a man than a King

Then a joke he will try as you stifle a sigh

And deny that you've heard it before
Thinking Oh, Oh what a bore he is, what a thundering thumping bore!

As you laugh at his jokes (Ha ha ha ha ha ha)

'I'm a popular bloke', he will think

When you're ready to burst

Then 'Hello there!' he'll cry

To each poor passer-by

The ones that have not seen him first

For on sight of the beast they will run to the east

And the north and the west and the south

And long for the day when his head's on a tray

With an lemon to stop up his mouth

They south as they run;

'He's an excellent son
An a wonderful fellow, We're sure!'

But Oh, Oh what a bore he is, what a thundering thumping

Down-in-the-dump-ing

(Grunt grunt grunt grunt)

Thumping bore!