Austrian pigs

Land of mountains
Land of lakes
Pig slaughter
The devil now awakes
All that noise
And all that pain
And all that suffering
Yet again

This time it only pigs today
Clamouring in such dismay
Sprayed and jabbed so violently
And all they want is to run free
Loaded into long low crates
They can sense their forthcoming fates
They can see their fellows who
Went before them and have turned blue

There they lie quite motionless
Gassed with CO2 the stress
Locked inside these cages and
Made to stay nothing is grand
No animal alive today wants to be killed
Or Wants to pay
These animals have a lot of thought
And of course they are over wrought

Anger and fear all of it there
And getting gassed how it does scare
They shake so violently they suffer so
This is no way for pigs to go
Forced on through to the killing floor
Hung up on chains out of the door
Throats then slit and bled they be
Its cruelty its cruelty!

No animal deserves this pain
The ultimate in stress and strain
Suffering lamentably
And made to die regrettably
Each can see the one in front
Each can hear them crying out
Each can realise their pain
And thus is without any doubt

Austrian Abattoirs make me sick
Every slaughterhouse they are thick
Truly murderers employed to be
As dark and as nasty as we can see
land of mountains land of streams
We can fucking hear these screams
It reverberates in my head
And very soon we all are dead

And We can see them we can know
Their agony how it does grow
This is the Austrian Abattoir
Where death comes to even the star
Its certainly hell in this pig place
Their cries go out and we deface
Any soul who happens to be
Consigned to the kitchen actually

Austria land of snow
No place for a pig to go
Intoxicated with CO2
Just to see what it does do
Up to that point jammed they are
And prodded hard those prods do scar
The blessed soul who fights to see
If they can only try to free

Themselves from this great hell hole here
You can feel their abject fear
Duped by man up till this point
The malingerers who would anoint
Their bodies with some oil and sauce
And even more would wish to force
Them painfully into great ovens where
Their skins are salted and all would share

These are live souls with good heart
Murdered really for a start
Tortured through their shortened lives
And prepared with razor knives
Stuffed and roasted and served to those
Who smell the death inside their nose
Who taste the death and say aloud
How delicious they are and how well endowed

To call them fellow men not I