Diseased fatty liver from tortured and innocent ducks and geese

The profligate the good for nothing
The torturers of sin
You who take the innocent
The geese and ducks
An in
The darkness of your satanic soul
You cause great woe and pain
Your show your vile barbarity
Over and over again
Creating a vile disease
Where the liver grows and grows
At least ten times that of normal
Which brings it’s share of woes
Of agony and choking
As the lungs they suffer so
At this point the splendid farmer chap
Plunges his knife, the glow
On his sick face to see a soul
In agony and pain
To realise that he caused this
With his force feeding campaign
A tube thrust down their thoats
And balls of fat force fed so they
Sicken and grow sadder and more anxious
Every day

It is a form of torture
There are no excuses here
They won’t recant not ever
Hardened spreading fear
Throughout the farm
Each creature suffer much
And all of this for foie gras
Something few would touch
Only the sickly rich and powerful
Whose cholesterol ridden guts
Those who search out heart attacks
Clearly arrogant nuts
Strasbourg is where foie gras
Is Produced where profits are
France appears to love the taste
They truly love to scar
The geese and ducks their inner organs
They love to decimate
They love to hear the sweet birds moan
With their vile stuff on their plate
Sometimes served as a purée with toast and jelly they
Prepare a sickness for tHemselves
On any given day

It is made for degenerates
Who enjoy wicked ways
Firm and smooth a creamy white
Tinged with pink such praise
Blood and snot and evil
Mucus highly prized
The liver minced with added herbs
Have consumers realised
The agony of these birds
Every day the stress
Standing upright in their cages
In their own vile mess
Far away from water
Engorged with fat and slime
Creating a diseased state
In the course of time
Then the disease is eaten
Imagine that will you
Adding sickness and agony
And all of that is true
It’s dishonesty and iniquity
An abomination it
is packed in cans and bottles
Designed to keep you fit

The ego trip the haughty
The selfish through and through
The culpable the complicit
The burden of guilt is with you
The wicked the mis doing
The arrestable those who
Lapse into the criminal fraternity
Who view
Extravagance and self indulgence
Lacking self control
Who indulge themselves in evil
Bings drinkers one and all
SO CALLED EPICURIANS
Hung OVER ON THEIR SIN
Their obscenity is obvious
They buy it by the tin

Offensive and Indecent
Bought without regret
NEver apologetic
Clearly they are set
Firm in such digestion
Of agony and pain
Of tortured souls whose spirits scream
And do so now in vain