Fresh Caught Feast- Poetry from The Captain's Chair- The U.S.S. Minnowprize
and now my days are filled with grey, only sodden hay.
To the glue factory they say, a fine old fellow.
Been round the track a few times, end of the line for that pony.
Bit long in the tooth? lame in the leg?
No matter we just shoot them dead.
Slice into chops and mail them home.
Dog food.
If only there was a way, to construct a ladder from this hay.
Escape my four post hotel and run free.
Wild abandon, head tossing in glee.
Instead we're stuck here in this cage.
Surrounded on all sides.
Except this one over here., what luck!
Straight into the meat truck.
Nothing back there for me now.
Only that thankless fat sow.
Forever grubbing in the soil.
Teeth blacker than most oil.
Snuffling up every treat she can.
Never once thanking the hand.
One time that cow tried to bite.
So I kicked her with all my might.
Right in the buttock, yes my man.
Swung that thing like a ham.
Turned about and walked out after.
Didn't look back, too much laughter.
Now we enjoy meat off the bone.
Did you wonder where I got it from?
Hung that sheep up in a tree.
Tastes like jerky!
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