Bacon Week (leaves me weak at the knees)

Because it happens behind closed doors

and there very seldom is applause

to the cruelty that goes on and on

to the hogs whose bogs are all but gone

its untrue to say that pigs are dirty

they want to be clean and they do get shirty

with farmers who put them in cafo sheds

to dump where they eat near to their beds

Bacon a product thats traded well

smothered in salt and nitrite hell

preserved for profit no prophets dare

talk up bacon anywhere

the pigs are treated to confinement they

none of them can walk away

often the sheds are full of slop

and its where they live till they get the chop

a pig is a natural a forest dweller

he roots about he’s a honest feller

but a CAFO pig knows prison life

from morning till night he feels the strife

often he’s beaten kicked and whacked

often too many in his place are packed

often there’s flies and maggots around

and lots of dead piglets thats what I’ve found

bacon week thats when the trade gets wind

of the smell of breakfast when pigs are pinned

down and strung on the hooks of fear

and their throats are cut from ear to ear

thats when they swing in their dance of death

spluttering wildly forfeiting breath

before the butcher clad in white

cuts their legs off as if by right

bacon week is concentration

camp of vileness and the creation

was made by Nature with such finesse

but the murdering workers

dont care a less

its butcher them quickly

watch them swing

hear them snort

and that does bring

tears to my eyes to watch them fall

panting and dying out in the hall

bacon week a  perspective from hell

just so the corporates can bloody well sell

more of the meat the aching muscle

the poor sad souls and their long tussle

to try to free themselves from hell

something they didn’t do very well