It was xmas 1942 and my father was home for the holidays. Grand father had arranged with a man he knew to get a young pig for the christmas feast. The only thing was they had to collect it at night and avoid being caught and charged with blackmarket dealings

Yet my father had misgivings not wrought by fear, but sheer expediency.  Home on leave, having flown a series of bombing missions over Germany. He was concerned that they be stopped by the police on there journey to and from Bromsgrove to collect the suckling pig . Grandfather had an answer to all there woes in case they were stopped by the arm of the law. He had thought long and finally saw the answer. In order to create the  subterfuge they would dress up the pig in trousers and shoes. An old macintosh with a belt in the middle, set of by a hat from Dolby and Riddle.
Not your average Sunday best titfer, but a trilby by Christies what else could be nifter. For the boys on a jolly and Yuletide fun, and a drunken pig comrade
All out on the Bum

He knew the worst of it my father
Honoured in battle disgraced in peace
The lot of every son - in -law in the land
Well him at least.
Grandfather was determined 
Let there be no peace
Until we get the pig
Fidgety jig there will be no one about
With out a doubt this is the best chance
We will ever have
Look that  is the way to Bromsgrove
Then a few miles on heavenly Norton
Not far from the barracks you know
Worcester regiment
A heaven sent
Opportunity to cover our tracks
On the way back.

It will be swarming with police
On the look out
For stray sabateurs
But Tantrum has told me a route
That will get us home free

As I understand it Tantrum
A horserace bettings pundit
Of some renown, was apt to crown
His excellent skills at picking horses
With a singular lack of imagination
In other realms.
Was it not he
Who earned himself the dubious alias
Of Tantrum the worlds worst burgler
When on a dark winters night
He judged it right 
With black mask and Jemmy
To see if there was any
Money left in the safe of the local T.A

Alas I fear for his burgling career 
Having entered a  roof light
Realised his rough plight
And dissapointedy found
That once on the ground
Unless he did shout
He couldnt get out.
Then without further fuss
His best plan was thus
To call the police
To his impending disaster
Certainly a master class
Phone conversation 
Amused all the nation

'Hello there
Emergency ?
Can you call the police
I am a burgler and I've locked my self in
No it isnt my whim
Neither a joke
Just tell the police
I am bloody well broken as a man  
Well yes
Of course I'm a clown and my luck it is down
Non of  your buzz just call the fuzz
Its freezing in here'.

From what became clear
My fathers's misgivings
That the well meaning Tantrum
Was hardly a reliable informant
Nevertheless the trip went well
Until they reached Fairfield
Where there luck didst yield
To the long arm of the  law

A light split the gloom
As they all faced their doom
For black market food purloining
Twas the local constable out on his round
Searching the suburbian  edge of the town
And he happened upon
A motor car from Stourbridge
With four suspicious clients on board

Hello! said he what have we here
Three german spies so full of beer
They lost there way Your papers please
Then he let out a sneeze
Where are you all going to
And I will know where you've been
So own up come clean.
Out on the bummel my grandfather said
This airforce man is home on leave
Just look at the stripes upon his sleeve
Taking the war to the nazis
real nasties they are

And who is that chap in the back
Of the car with the gruffest of tones
Is he gone too far
Dressed in his tartan muffler and tie
Not much of a looker for the ladies eye
For he looks like a pig and a small one at that
In his gaberdine mackintosh and old trilby hat
Drunk as a skunk mt grandfather said
So let us along it time for his bed
And the constable saw with a smile and a yawn
There was no ill to mend
Just a group on a jolly with  
Quite  a drunken friend