Dead pigs

Tell a pig it’s going to die
Gassed in fact it might cry
Free ranged all its short sad life
And now at Linley Valley
Knife
the brute
It’s going to be
As flavourful accordingly
The advert states where welfare’s high
Wild food on hand
A warm blue sky

Friendly butchers knives of steel
Are going to gas you
Such appeal
Come into our abattoir
Where in the spotlight
You are a star
Gassed out of your dainty mind
Life force clearly undermined
Porongorups a place where
There are heaps of pure despair

Waiting on the need to lie
To breathe in gas
And just to die
For thirty years they have murdered pigs truck loads of fear
And tears
Pigging up their silent role
In butchering out of control

Taste that gas that fills the brain
That smothers the lungs
With its wild refrain
Lack of respect irreverence
Humiliation come what May
Angelic sows admired by those
Who realise the peaceful pose

Shocked by butcherings crying shame
Wrongheadedness they are all to blame
Unfitting inequality
Such privilege it feels to me
WA all the real will
The worst intentions
They are going to kill
Each of these called free range souls
Bred with kindness
For me poles
apart
The rhetoric and the real
Soaking up the death camp
That wholly violent steal

Nothing gallant or charitable
Misanthropy it’s everywhere
Whole families wiped out
Porkers sold
The rancour raised
In blood it’s rolled
Gloating barbarous porky cuts
Outrageousness
Outrageousness

Wheatbelt farm a recent serious loss of pigs
Some five hundred perished how terribly tragic
Investigation underway
Down to extreme weather conditions