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Friday, August 06, 2004

The Animal Men-Farm

The chickens, the pigs and the woolly sheep shiver
The bullocks, the cows and the quacky ducks quiver
Will they be slices, will they be slivers
Who of their kind will then end up as livers?

But they know it not and yet so they do
They'll be pressed into service and also pressed through
a grinder, a mincer, a chopper and then
fashioned and honeyed and formed into men
battered and blithered and salted and herbed
given new life but yet left so disturbed
by their cruel and unhealthy, raw meat resurrection
from them and ourselves we don't give no protection

You think that im joking, you think it's a fable?
just go to the pub and sit down at a table
then look at the pigmen, grunting through darts
please observe the cowgirls, the fucked ducky tarts
avoid well the bulldogs, the bullet-head cattle
the hot-george-crossed herd and their common old prattle
for they are the sausages and they are the pies
they are the bacon, the burgers and fries
the dregs of this country*, the scum of the earth
the junk of this nation, let's cook them at birth




*by which i mean England

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