12 June 2012
I'm working in pig heaven, Such a long, long way from Devon, The footie's on our little screen, In our hut surrounded in greens, I miss my writing, I really do, Especially when knee-deep in poo! But this is my passion, It's probably not a great fashion, What with being covered in straw, And that fresh blister feeling a tad raw, But my limbs are satisfyingly achy, And I smile when the farmer calls me "matey", All five thousand-ish happy sows, Are out in the wallows for a doze, While I'm tucked up to warm my toes, It's a life-style of cons and pros, Just like all things, I suppose.
So I only get 30 minutes of signal a day, When to the farm I make my way, But really, it's better than ok, I am, after all, helping fill your buffet! It's all a little tough to portray, But I'm giving it a shot anyway.
Fields and fields stretch as far as I can see, I just want to show you all how things should be, I hate the "factory farms" all enclosed, This is so much better, so I propose, Just look at all these pigs, Living out in their country digs, Out in the grass and sun and sky, Just to fill your humble pork pie, Yet it's an efficient machine, Despite being so green, Always a tractor on the move, And the boss there to disapprove, But either way the farrowings come, When the little pink piglets make a new mum, Giant litters of up to twenty, Jeez - I thought one would be plenty! But the mini-racers all charge about, Stopping to snuffle with their snouts, Even the runt's are given a chance, They may still grow, even if tiny at first glance.
Over all I just want to give nature a hug, So I can give this sort of farming a giant plug, Just think about that bacon sarnie next time, For I truly hope you choose a source this sublime.
Bacon • Opuss № I