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."