The Epic Of The Hog.

(Man's Inhumanity to Hogs Makes Countless Thousands Squeal.)


I lived upon a little farm,
    A happy hog was I,
I never dreamed of any harm
    Nor ever thought to die.

All day I wallowed in the mud,
    And ate the choicest slops.
I watched the brindles chew their cud--
    The farmer tend his crops.

Upon the hottest days I'd go
    And flounder in the river--
I thought that hogs might come and go,
    But I would live forever.

Then finally I waxed so fat
    That I could hardly walk,
And then the farmers gather 'round
    And all began to talk.

I couldn't understand a word,
    All I did was grunt;
You see that's all a hog can do--
    It is his only stunt.

But finally they took me out
    And put me on a train.
I really couldn't move about
    And squealed with might and main.

I grunted, grunted as I flew
    And moved in vain endeavor,
But even then I thought it true
    That I would live forever.

And so we came to Packingtown
    Where there were hogs galore,
I never saw so many hogs
    In all my life before.

Then we had to shoot the chutes
    And climb a flight of stairs,
We never had a chance to stop
    Or time to say our prayers.

Loud-squealing hogs above, below
    They formed a seething river,
For men may come and men may go
    But hogs go on forever.

And then I saw an iron wheel
    Which stood alone in state,
And then I heard an awful squeal--
    A hog had met his fate.

A devilish chain upon the wheel
    Had seized him by the leg;
It was no use to kick and squeal,
    It was no use to beg.

I longed in deepest grief and woe
    To leave that brimming river;
If once into that room you go
    Your fate is sealed forever.

Farewell, Farewell, a long farewell,
    Around the room I spin,
And then a fellow with a knife
    Smites me below the chin.


    L'Envoi.

Dear reader I was just a hog,
    But O it's awful hard
To die disgraced, and then to be--
    Turned into "Pure Leaf Lard."