They call it fun fur
\nthat’s the sickness
\nthe diabolical, fashion trade
\nfun for some
\nbut few I know
\nwho know the grief
\nand on who its laid<\/p>\n
there are no laws protecting those
\nwho were born with skin and ample fur
\nand because of this the growing torture
\nis massive and it does occur
\nexports rising every which way
\nEuropean markets say
\nChinese fur is cheap and cheerful
\nbut its sadistic just to pay<\/p>\n
whatever for fur trim and other
\nfur supports the growing trend
\nof heinous torture its unbelievable
\nthe screams one hears it has to end
\nin all the provinces back yard operatives
\nwash and stretch and dry the skins
\nwith highly toxic chemical compounds
\nand they are guilty of many sins<\/p>\n
all the residue pours into
\nthe local rivers then the streams
\nall of them terribly carcinogenic and bringing
\non truly the worst of bad dreams
\nthe impact is extremely dangerous
\nbut its for export and so it goes
\non and on ad infinitum
\nand every kind of shit now flows<\/p>\n
brutality is colossal
\nits reprehensible to see
\neven the most hardened
\nwill vomit just to bloody be
\nclose to where the action happens
\neven the heartless men break down
\nthis is terror at its worst
\nand its happening all over town<\/p>\n
each cage they live in measures
\n54 centimetres square
\nthey cannot turn around in that
\nit just aint bloody fair
\nto do this to such animals
\nand watch them just go mad
\nstomping on themselves I mean to say
\nit gone from worse to bad<\/p>\n
how can anybody do this
\nto any living soul
\nthe farmers they dont have compassion
\nthey are cruel and so the toll
\nof egregious torture
\nof the most tumultuous pain
\nraccoon dogs are all heavy
\nand million die in vain
\ncrashed down on the hard ground
\nsupposedly to stun
\nbut they very soon awake
\nknowing what’s to be done <\/p>\n
very much alive still
\nkicking for all their worth
\nbreathing hard their bodies jarred
\nand beaten against the earth
\nstill this doesn’t kill them
\nso the skinning process starts
\non the ground that free’s the legs
\nthen hook them up, and it starts<\/p>\n
the unbelievable agony as the skin
\nis pulled away over the limbs and over the head
\nwhat is there to say
\nthis is torture so extreme
\non an innocent soul who loved to dream
\nto walk the countryside at Dawn
\nand now is unceremoniously shorn<\/p>\n
and its naked structure and its great big eyes
\nlook up to heaven and realise
\nits passing was slow with such agony
\nhoping above all else to be
\nfree from the terrible state that they
\nfind themselves in how they do pay
\nevery creature is treated like this
\nits something that every soul should miss<\/p>\n
but with export markets rising fast
\nback yard farms alas have cast
\nmillions of animals in the role
\nof a terrible life in a darkly hole
\nand a death so terrible just to tell
\nin words consigns a man to Hell<\/p>\n
the cages are small and made of wire
\nmonotony follows how they perspire
\nsoaked in excrement and urine
\ntheir future clearly on the line
\nthey dig at the wire to try and free
\nthemselves from this utter purgatory
\nfoxes are frightened of humans they
\narn’t mean’t to be stationed every day
\nclose to other foxes who
\nhate the close proximity too<\/p>\n
its so unnatural, and causes fear
\nyou can feel, it from ear to ear
\nthey are running scared
\nwith no where to go
\nfrustrated and worn
\nand ready to throw<\/p>\n
caution to the wind
\njust to get away
\nbut there is no chance
\nfor its judgement day
\nthe terror is coming
\nthe agony too
\nno one escapes the killing crew<\/p>\n
with a pole and noose
\naround their throats
\ntheir manhandled out
\nfor yet more coats
\nfor yet more hags to step up and say
\nI need a new coat for my wedding day<\/p>\n
this is what happens
\nthe murders go on
\nall shapes and sizes
\nslowly are gone
\ngrisly tribulations flow
\nthese ordeals they grow and grow
\nthe rancour it curdles the mind
\nand no remorse not that you’d find
\nthe butchers are a dreadful band
\nas uneasiness spreads now through the land<\/p>\n
victims writhe in their own blood
\ndowntrodden and forgotten flood
\nthe heaps of bodies in the sun
\nstill alive
\nwhat have we done?
\nits all distasteful and very sick
\nthis loathsome spectacle to pick
\nout any part of this ordeal
\nits really just to make one feel<\/p>\n
terrible, what can one say
\nabout what happens here today
\nits horrific it does nauseate
\ntoo calamitous to ever rate
\neach wretched creature writhes away
\nand languishes in its sad decay<\/p>\n
this is the fur industry
\ncreating trim for you not me
\nbut creating trim for the anorak
\nfor the school boys coat
\nfor the school girl mac
\nfor the gloves of faux fur
\nthe labels say
\nbut they’re raccoon dog
\nand that dog did pay<\/p>\n
a horrid price for your warmish hands
\nit died a death beyond its plans
\nto do neither in fact but just get away
\nto try and live another day
\nbut it was not to be
\nno not at all
\nnobody heard its final call
\nnot the designers that specify
\nnot the retailers WHO DON’T KNOW WHY
\nnot the fur industry who does not care
\nwho were deaf to the cries and far from aware
\nnot to the fur hags who have sold their soul
\nnot to the media who take control
\nnot to creation who bows down and cries
\nas the humanoid moron just mystifies<\/p>\n
we are the monsters there isn’t a doubt
\nwhat we see here is a continual rout
\nof species with fur who dont stand a chance
\nthey have to die and before that to dance
\non the rusty old hook bashed into the tree
\nwhere they are skinned whilst alive
\nwith such depravity
\nto describe what we see, what we hear
\nis too much
\nfor someone’s fur coat or some collar
\nto touch
\nand those hags who wear heads and tails
\nin some stole
\nfeel a malediction towards every soul
\nthat has to go through this
\nthis odious hell
\nrepellent and spurned by all that I tell<\/p>\n
the fox on the ground coughs and splutters
\nwe see
\nhe is greyish and strong
\nyes he has to be
\nthe butcher’s a man a monster in fact
\nfor with all of the pain
\nhe doesn’t react<\/p>\n
not at all, if anything he sort of smiles
\na brute with a blade who rigorously riles
\nthe fox who is panting
\nin enormous pain
\nsucking in air again and again<\/p>\n
trying to roar
\nwith no strength left but he
\nis not giving up his last hope to get free<\/p>\n
do you want fur trim after hearing my plea
\ndo you want a coat made of fur
\nwhich would be
\ncausing such vile and terrible pain
\ndo you really honestly think you can gain
\nanything positive from garments like these
\nI urge you to think and shake at the knees
\nrather than buy into terror and pain
\ntell the fur industry, never again!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
They call it fun fur that’s the sickness the diabolical, fashion trade fun for some but few I know who know the grief and on who its laid there are no laws protecting those who were born with skin and … Continue reading