Part of the live exports from Dover

Live animal cargo
dig into our heart
shipments by sea
where do I start
born on dry land
now the realization
that now I am part
of a organization

just one of many
loaded aboard
feeling the movement
this our reward
for a few years of life
shipped on our way
really unsure of why
we must pay

it is so unclear
standing fast in the hold
hearing the engines
and feeling quite cold
the rock of the swell
I’m queasy al’right
cramped up and uncomfortable
in the poor light

a lot of us, nervous
in rapid decline
the air we all share
its stale
its a line
that operates weekly
across to Calais
in some, secrecy
so we heard them say

out of the dock
in the cool morning air
we all know in France
we will be slaughtered there
in a real abattoir
that is our fate
just a short crossing
so not long to wait

just a time to feel nervous
standing together
wondering, thinking aloud
really whether
the French abattoir
is as good as the one
in England
these stories are all
so homespun

blood and deep gore
its one thing to hear
its another to know
that you now are clear
your not in some shadow
your part of it all
your life’s on the line
yes soon you will fall

victim to death
to the sweep of a knife
that will shatter your being
and end your sweet life
and the French will be
cutting and cooking you rare
your legs and your breasts
and your shoulders
they’ll share

with some wine in the sun
in a great pot of stew
made rich by the flesh
that was once part of you
it is a strange feeling
for sentient’s to
contemplate death
and what might accrue

will it be agony
will it be pain
of will we just drift off
and fall like the rain