Onward Swine,
To pull my load-
The foul beasts of an ancient land
Long gone,
Long forgotten-
Plaguing the memories of my father,
And his father,
And a million fathers before.
Onward Swine,
Until your wretched stench,
I can bare no more.
Onward Swine,
You punk bitch,
As they say...
Your illness is my promise,
Your demise is my saving grace.
The catcalls and the screeching boar-cries,
The pig hoards and the hoary cockadoodledoodlers
Sit in quiet agony.
Onward Swine,
Pollute our fragile minds,
Until we are no more.
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