The handsome hog

a caring sharing organisation
Is any piglets true salvation
An RSPCA appointed
Farm is honestly annointed
Imagine it the forest stretching
Out across the verdant plain
The sky above the trees together
On our Backs The gentle rain

The capacity for virtue giving
Any handsome hog a place
Functional and multipurpose
A capacity for full on grace
Blessings and such benediction
Betterment of the shared life
In the most natural conditions
Whilst waiting for the blunt dull knife

There’s the sign it’s on the wall there
RSPCA So we
Can rest assured our freedoms coming
A heaven sent utility
Love and light is all around us
Farmed we are but heaven sent
It’s our blessing in disguise
Edifying and content

Oink oink oink engage a moment
Up to our bellies in our own poop
This is a damnable troublous disservice
And we are clearly in the soup
Of circumstance of profit making
Urged on by our sense of grief
The public have their own perception
Blimey that’s such a relief

The noble farmer from a good family
Known around these parts for years
He knows how to do things properly
Purposeful so it appears
But come into these dark surroundings
Try to breathe as if you can
Hear the screams of handsome hogs
Hoping that a nicer man

Will come to care will share his wisdom
The promise of good husbandry
Not the shit hole of existence
That I find is where I be
A crying evil all pervading
Every pore within my soul
Is suffering the kind of trauma
That was never to be my role

It’s foul and shameful and so distressing
To imagine heaven and find a hell
The RSPCA that outrage
Helps apparently to sell
Our flesh and blood when life is over
The caring sharing carnivore
Will part with measly dimes and purchase
Possibly a few pound more

But little do they know our lives
Were futile in the sense of things
We lived in squalor by design
And the bravado that it brings
To noble farmers who walk tall
Their faultlessness is wall to wall
we are the systems victims, we
Wallow in his poverty

His lack of hygiene is everywhere
The noxiousness of his given air
Undrinkable water fouled and smelly
When we drink it pains our belly
No ventilation a pest house here
Morbific madness ever clear
The drains are clogged infections ride
Huge blue bottles rest inside

Each visitation makes me feel
The need to puke which feels so real
Maggots crawling in the soup
Made up chiefly with our own poop
And piss and blood what can we say
When the sign says yes RSPCA

As for inspections we can’t remember
Did we get one last November
They came but did they come to see
The state of us no guarantee
It might have happened I can’t be sure
But anyone coming though this door
Would feel the evil clouds surround
Their being as they hit the ground

Prepare yourselves dear carnivore
Who think it’s worth paying some more
Realise the RSPCA did nothing for us
Not any day
We suffered long we suffered so
We were beaten up that I do know
Biting our bars and going crazy
Left us all just so hazy

To whether inspectors ever came
Whatever the fucking sign did claim
When we left that shit hole to go to our death
Outside we all took one long breath
Death with his sickle would soon be here
And it was a godsend when he did appear

I dedicate this little poem to every pig that ever was farmed and ended up in the slaughterhouse trillions of them made to live in extreme conditions of filth brought about not by the animals but by ignorant human beings

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