You’re a well-known company, eaten in many homes, it’s true…
You sell lots really cheap so everyone can buy you.
You don’t taste too bad, but definitely not the best,
Yet for you, there should be an arrest.
You abuse, and amuse yourselves by hearing them squeal,
As if it were a game, not quite real.
You push and hit, and throw them to the ground!
Their screams of pain in metal barns resound…
They lay there, unable to move, for what seems like forever,
Until they finally meet sweet death, their blood like a river.
They have undercover tapes, and yet you still deny,
How can you, exactly, when it’s plain to the eye?
Those poor swine have no voice you can hear,
So listen to me you poor, sadistic dear.
Squeals of pain may be music to your ears
But if you continue, I’ll fight to give you years,
In a prison where you’ll eat horrible food,
With echoes of convicted haunting you.
They have rights to a humane death!
And that’s what you’ll do if you listen to what I suggest.