THE FLYING PIGS OF RIVERTOWN

THE FLYING PIGS OF RIVERTOWN,
a remarkable celebration of the city of Cincinnati, Ohio


Pen: A.Teveluwe

Copyright: James Gauselman


There once was an old woman who lived in a shoe
But has anyone ever told you of the pigs that flew?

“Oh! No,” said the farmer, “that just can’t be…”
“My pigs are herded to market walking three-by-three.”

“Well then,” said the young girl, with a disbelieving huff
“You’re a bit skeptical, even rude, I see, and your history’s a bit rough.”

“So then,” said the girl, “I’ll tell you the story…”
“Of how pigs built a city, and then you’ll be sorry!”

---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---o---


Up on the riverbank where there’s a turn in the flow
Sprung up a village, along the O-hi-o.

Its name was first Losantiville, where a young thriving country grew west
And resources for a budding economy were known to be best.

There were forests of trees
And wide-open spaces
Natural game for the hunting
Even wild buffalo traces.

Fertile soil for farming
Grasses for grazing
Frontiersmen discovered a promising land
Rich for the planting.

Much before long
There were settlers aplenty
And the town grew prosperous
In a Rhine Valley - like setting.

Where flatboats, then steamers
Paddled their way
Hauling goods and passengers
Plying their trade.


Up-sprung industries
For prosperity and fame
Where the strong trees’ timber
Set mighty ship vessels’ frames.

Breweries and bakeries
For the palate and plate
And professional baseball’s
First ‘home plate’.



A business that made soap
From the lard that pigs wrought
That cleaned all the children’s bright smiling faces
For all the world to be bought.

Butchers, bakers and candle-stick makers
All businesses benefiting from the pigs given nature.

Once, others would look at this town
And turn up their noses
At the town they called Porkopolis,
And not for its neighborhood gardens’ roses.

And let’s not forget
Those memorable celebrities of fame
Radio to television, to stage and to screen,
Generations, now, all know their names.

And so, much business and talent has prospered
From the small to the grand
By the hard working citizens
Of this burgeoning land.

This valley, God’s temple,
With its churches and steeples
Living in faithful harmony
Along with its proud mid-western peoples.


Now there’s a warm friendly city
Of old mixed with new
Conservatories and museums
And a world famous zoo.

Derbies to race-cars
The steamboats’ Tall Stacks
Art turned to architecture
And the trains’ mighty tracks.


There are parks and attractions,
Numerous festivals that are a ‘hoot’
With just as many local tasty foods,
And special ice creams to boot.

Schnitzel to creampuffs
Numerous beers from great steins
Oktoberfests to marathons
And Catawba from the vine.

Amphitheaters for summer concerts
And wide open spaces.
An art deco museum
And former train station.


Today on the river
In honor of these days
Rise monuments and symbols
To these marvelous ways.

Universities of wonder
And theater performances to share
All within earshot
Of the city’s ‘Fountain Square’.

All over town
The tradition is big
The city and its people
Even celebrated the “Big-Pig-Gig”.

Once, across the river
Historic battles did succumb
Now, by the John Roebling Suspension Bridge
All friends do gladly come.

But most of all revered
For the heritage they brought
Are the City of Seven Hills famed pigs
And the neighborhood life they also wrought.

So when you look around at this marvelous place
Be sure to look on high
For beyond most others’ common belief…
Pigs do surely fly!