Squeal

^{CLIFFORD J., IOWA}

Little pink piggies with curly tails,

snip their teeth and cut their nuts,

They Squeal…

Manure pit stench, environ-mental destruction,

growth hormones, antibiotics, and vaccines. Don’t think about it.

They Squeal and Squeal…

A challenge fitting int those daisy dukes? Can’t dodge it.

They Squeal and Squeal some more…

Porky Pig says, “That’s not all folks.” Seek your Deliverance.

The pork is in the puddin’. It’s no vanilla, tastes great and fillin’.

They Squeal and Squeal and Squeal some more…

Nitrogen run-off, liner leaks, mass fish kills. Corporate

Greed--- greasy, grimy, fingers. From top-to-bottom.

Ooh, yea’ Squeal. Keep Squealing. Louder…

Like a Babe struggling mightily in Charlottes sticky web.

America. High on the hog, in hog heaven and Wilbur caught the flu.

Let ‘em Squeal and Squeal and Squeal more and more…

I’m not talking Ms. Piggy, “Who, Moi?” Exploding green abscesses’.

Don’t mean the boy’s in blue. So damn hungry. Ready to eat, yum!

Hear them Screech, Scream, and Squeal, Squeal, Squeal…

Black or brown a hog is a hog--- Hog is Boss, Render that.

Take a Hairy Wild Board, Razorback, or a Black Pot-Bellied Pig. Anytime.

They just Squeal and Squeal…

You’re here to be eaten, die for me little piggy. Die. Die.

Singe your hair and bleed you out, it’ll be okay, hush now.

They still Squeal, Oink, and Squeal…

Love some whole hog sausage, hickory bacon, smoked ham, and award

winnin’, mouth waterin’, lip smackin’ blue ribbon, Iowa Pork Chops.

Go ahead and Squeal. Squeal more and more, nobody cares…

The squeals the only piggish thing they can’t process.

If they could, all little piggies would go to market, and not stay home.

Don’t stop Squealin’…

Keep the lines moving? Sharpen your trusty knife, use your steel.

No carpal tunnel. Wear your mesh. No fingers in the meat.

Squeal.