VEGANGELICA

You like to rope calves at rodeo.

You’re glad you won a prize

terrorizing animals in a show.

You wrestle pigs and wear a leather vest

trying to look like the cowboys

who used to live out West.

You go out trapping muskrats

so they drown in the lake,

but you never say you kill, only "harvest" or "take."

You see all creatures of the world as a natural resource.

I see you willfully killing them without remorse.

        Now, nature can be cruel, I agree that’s true,

        but that don’t mean you gotta be cruel, too.

Oh, you dress your kids in camouflage

and photograph them holding up

dead pheasants by the hunting lodge.

You take their picture with dangling fish,

and here Bobby finally shot a deer.  

Says Dad, "I got my greatest wish."

See the boy and doe, blood trickling from her nose,

his weapon displayed on her flank so it shows.

He’s holding up her head, light reflecting from her eye,

and he’s grinning ‘cause he’s the one who caused her to die.

        Oh, you like to think you’re a flock of God’s sheep,

        but you’re wolves in sheep’s clothing.   Your predator runs deep.

        Like cats with their prey, you feel killing is fun,

        and your culture condones eating almost every animal under the sun.

        You believe creation’s at your mercy,

        and that’s the way you think a god planned for it to be.

        Oh, you’re so glad ya’ll get to be country.

        I’m so glad I never have to be country.

You sing your pretty songs of country love,

of romance in the corn and the sweetly cooing dove.

But the corn you feed to pigs you roast with spits through their head,

and the mourning doves, well, you like to shoot them dead.

When you wake up you put on your country uniform,

the fancy fur felt hats, belt buckles, and jeans that fit your form.

You give cowboy boots to children who are two

who practice roping sawhorse steer to grow up just like you.

        Oh, you’re wolves in sheep’s clothing who think they’re sheep,

        but your life is based on slaughter.   Your predator runs deep.

        Like cats with their prey, you feel killing is fun,

        and your culture condones eating almost every animal under the sun.

        You believe creation’s at your mercy,

        and that’s the way you think a god planned for it to be.

        Oh, you’re so glad ya’ll get to be country.

        I’m so glad I never have to be country.

        Now, nature can be cruel, I agree that’s true,

        but that don’t mean that you gotta be cruel, too.

You practice animal husbandry

and sell your helpless livestock to the slaughtering facility

since you were told we need meat to grow strong,

but it never occurs to you your parents were wrong!

With the money you earn, you feed your big family.

The minimum number of children that you have is three.

You never mind the ethics of what you’ve done,

though if everybody had three kids the world would soon be overrun.

        You’re blissfully unaware the way you live

        and your actions fail Kant’s categorical imperative

        to not use others as a means to an end

        and to only make choices that, if universalized, you would defend.

        You believe creation’s at your mercy

        and that’s the way you think a god planned for it to be.

        Oh, you’re so glad ya’ll get to be country.

        I’m so glad I never have to be country.

Yeah, nature can be cruel, but that don’t mean you

gotta be cruel, too,

Ohhh, yeah, nature can be cruel, but that don’t mean you

gotta be cruel, too.

I know you, you good ol’ country folk,

the kind who like to think loving creatures is a joke.

You’re so invested in animal brutality

you can’t imagine any other way for life to be.

You like shooting songbirds out of the sky

and you tell me this without ever batting an eye.

You talk with satisfaction of killing a bear.

I listen in horror as our kinfolk smile, "Where?"

        But I love you – you’re my family.

        For better or worse, we’re all part of humanity,

        but I don’t feel killing creatures is fun,

        and it saddens me that you eat almost every animal under the sun.

        You believe creation’s at your mercy

        but that’s not the way I think a god planned it to be.

        Oh, you’re so glad ya’ll get to be country.

        I’m so glad I never have to be country!

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Photo sources:

rodeo (www.tomregan-animalrights.com)

Cowboy, 1887 (public domain)