The newness of our life force
\nGenuine juvenility
\nInfancy and babyhood
\nA fosterling in nursery
\nWhipper snappers love to play
\nBounce about most of the day
\nSpring’s outcome energy bursting through
\nA primary cause for children who
\nStill are powerless in many ways
\nBut weak and shy this growing phase
\nOf jollity of harmless fun
\nAnd playing really in the sun<\/p>\n
A few short weeks and its their turn
\nThe slaughterhouse it will concern
\nAll of them but never you
\nThe lamb boys know a thing or two
\nPoor wee souls their life anew
\nDoing what all babies do
\nOpen eyes and hearts awake
\nMothers milk yea still they take<\/p>\n
The nutrition what it does
\nIs give the little ones a buzz
\nThey leap about like coiled springs, they
\nReally do enjoy each day
\nThe soft wet grass is underfoot
\nUp on the hill where they have been put
\nIt gets cold when the wind does blow
\nBut whilst there is frost there is seldom snow<\/p>\n
Soon as they are beginning to see
\nThe fresh green grass and the tall oak tree
\nHear the bird song and realise
\nLife is wonderful for all the guys
\nThats when the great truck comes to call
\nThey are loaded on yea one and all
\nTrundles off to the abattoir
\nThose sliding doors what were they for
\nTo keep us in once we were there
\nAt the house they call
\nLamb boys despair<\/p>\n
Through the gates into a yard
\nDown some passageways running hard
\nBeing bashed with a horrid stick
\nThese labourers here are very thick
\nWhy do they hit us we are small
\nWe cannot run that fast at all
\nAnd where are we going why must we run
\nInside a place what have we done<\/p>\n
Around a corner a horrid smell
\nA lot of blood whats this pray tell
\nAnd lots of us hung upside down
\nMost not moving they now drown
\nIn their own blood oh dearie me
\nAre we dying here actually
\nPots of blood and awful bleats
\nI know that my own heart beats
\nBut clearly not for long for they
\nAre going to kill us right away<\/p>\n
Lets hope the death is as good as life
\nLets hope the new place has much less strife
\nWhere is mother?she isn’t here
\nUnless soon she will re-appear
\nThey hit us more times and we try
\nTo run ahead only to die
\nHoisted up and they slit our throat
\nThe agony Something to note
\nAnd out of me my fresh warm blood
\nOn top of the man it all does flood
\nA little pain and my eyes shut tight
\nIts over its over its instant night<\/p>\n
Idea from claudia<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The newness of our life force Genuine juvenility Infancy and babyhood A fosterling in nursery Whipper snappers love to play Bounce about most of the day Spring’s outcome energy bursting through A primary cause for children who Still are powerless … Continue reading