The terrible work of exposing cruelty

pretty red pot plants all in a row
A village style butcher
If you didn’t know
Its all “oldy worldy”
Rustic and slate
But things kind of change
When you open their gate

It is a slaughterhouse
Where animals die
A death camp
A chamber where torture is high
Where many an emotion
Will no likely be
Where hearts and where souls
Are conjoined frantically

The scenes on this day
Were terribly sad
Sheep mums with babies
Still nursing they had
All still been together
In the lairage and they
Were following nature right up
Till today

Clearly the animals knew one another
All being killed in this small slaughter place
A pig just three cows a number of sheep
Every soul sentient the men though
Will reap
Some very bad karma, they have to for I
Witnessed real dreadful treatment
Before they did die

Insensibility stupor in fact
Totally unconscious even to react
As they did unaffected by all of the pain
The cynical handling the utter disdain
You could could cut with a knife the fright in the air
That pig and the three men they were aware
Of the terror that pig felt and just raised the stakes
It became so distressing my heart it just breaks
To hear that soul screaming questioning why
Men should be so cruel there was no reason why
Trapping the pig kicking its face bashing the gate
Which was the case
Squeezing that pig already in shock
All of their weight they tried to knock
That pig it was ugly it was awful to see
Till at last they stunned it and so badly

The cows hung up by one leg lowing so loud
Such haunting stuff they had been over powered
They clearly knew each other and both were killed
Together and whether together they spilled
Their life force out hanging by one leg poor dears
Subjected to torture and emotional fears
The sheep were a family one of them Oh god
Some kind of prolapse what type of sod
Would slaughter an animal clearly in pain
In a diseased state what would be the gain

These were not slaughtermen
Monsters more like
Mothers with babies
Manhandled what tike
Would ever be so beastly and slam them on their backs
Breaking their legs
With such awful attacks

This is not what slaughtering should be about
Taking frustration yes taking it out
Whats troubling you transferring it on
To these innocent souls who were put upon
This earth to share life to share breath
To feel fear
And to have men like this
Working, on them here

On death row in prisons we would not be
Treated so badly so disrespectfully
So why give these innocent soul so much grief
S. Bagshaw my god man it beggars belief
To feel their lamenting weeping they were
Doleful and mournful just to infer
This HILLSIDE sanctuary who
Were seeing this terror
What could they do

How could they bear to see such larceny
Such graceless behaviour such infamy
Each one of the men were repulsively charged
Sullen and haggard just how they barged
The animals out of the way following through
With yet more attacks so clueless too
There was no let up it was ghastly to see
The fear they engendered take it from me
Was as bad as it gets, a hopeless scene
Antagonism they were like some machine
No heart at all no quality
Just switched on and torturous
Just running free

I felt for those sweet dears
Their flesh must have been
Loaded with adrenaline
It was obscene
Unpleasant and nasty
Surly and gruff
Rude full on temper
I had seen enough

To me it was taking the hatred
To be
A kind of revulsion
A loathing to see
The bad blood and bitterness
What had they done
They were innocent souls
Wanting to run

Still nursing their mothers
Babies in fact
Sweet bouncing balls of wool
Their hearts intact
Sweet little souls expecting to play
Watching their mother just dragged away
The rancour the soreness the gall and the hate
The vindictiveness at such a rate

The pretty pot plants
The old bricks the slate
A clean cottage window
It all looks so great
An image of something
In an old country tome
Somewhere you have dreamed
Of in your idyllic home

And the cameras don’t lie
The peacefulness we
Imagine
When buying from them
Constantly
Old fashioned values
Old fashioned cuts
A smiling butcher
With no iffs nor buts
Just a rustic scene
An old worldly way
Of murdering animals
Everyday!