Yule and the piglet

Yule brings us hope
Yule brings us light
Yule brings us pain
And nothing to gain
That window in Camden
A piglet asleep
A piglet was killed
And this poet does weep

This poet did cry
This poet did see
Tears and eyes so red
Knowing that we

Fought the good fight
Saw the piglet and knew
That piglet died
Because piglets do

At the hands of the butchers
The corporate slobs
Who murder and sell
With their violent gobs

Yes it is yule
time of good cheer
A time when chickens and
Turkey’s do fear

A time when the piglets
The calves and the lambs
When most babies suffer
When the butcher man crams

Fat up the arse
Of so many who cry
Who scream in their sheds
On hooks and who die

Cranberries, forcing, sage
Maybe too
It’s about tradition
And maybe you

Christmas is supposed to be
Culture oh dear
A time of such agony
And so much fear

For the butterball turkeys
And the gold medals won
The chickens and capons
And pheasants now run

The gambit their feathers
Torn out of their skin
No little soul
Can ever win

The intestines of many
Will receive death and gore
For the piglet in that plastic sleeve
Just ignore

Our tears those of us
Who feel sad and alone
And sit by ourselves
And hear the wind moan

That dear little piglet
Now dead to the world
In that Camden window
Gracefully curled

Soon in rich spices
And sugar and fat
You will be eaten
And that will be that