The Lewd Mouths Squeal
Carnivores, despite the laws
Are quite aware of all the flaws
And failings in their feeding;
And though they frequently protest
That all they do is for the best
Their statements are misleading.
They lie, indeed, through sharpened teeth
That chomp no herbage on the heath
But seize the living muscle
And when their bleating victims bleed
They say, "But surely we must feed!"
Then tendon, bone, corpuscle
They shed no tear for fish nor fowl
Devouring armpit, nape and bowel
With almost no compunction
And if perchance the smallest bit
Of sense that this might not be fit
Should interrupt their luncheon,
They snarl at one who'd be so bold
To criticise, to scorn or scold
With nothing but derision
"Begone, you tofu-munching bore!"
And then, their jowls aswill with gore,
They make a sharp incision
But here's the rub: far happier they
Who dine on cactus-juice and hay
And other such provisions
Than those who gnaw their kinsmen's bones
Indifferent to gastric groans
And murderous decisions
|Roland, P, Bop, TG.
|9th February 1999.