Herbert Nehrlich - Duroc Pigs

In the seventies <br />we raised those durocs, <br />their colour brown <br />but otherwise the same. <br />When time came -wow, <br />to get the Python <br />and all the knives <br />that had been sharpened, <br />weeks ahead. <br />One shot it took, <br />then cut the live carotid <br />make sausage, spicy <br />right at that precise <br />and dizzy moment. <br />Blood Sausage, <br />yes, it is the pig's pyjamas, <br />and stuff the sausage <br />into casings of <br />their cousins. <br />All Germans love <br />the porcine products, <br />all its flavours <br />We love the mince <br /> that pork tatare <br />which means raw pork. <br />And in Australia <br />we go hunting <br />for wild pigs. <br />The world is eating <br />what the Gods <br />have always wanted.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duroc-pigs/