The Vegetarian March | TheFencePost.com

The Vegetarian March

Being a rancher means a lot of things. It might mean you get to buy an expensive pedigreed bull to improve your herd and he either shoots blanks or snubs your cows and tears through three fences to breed the neighbor’s scrub heifers. The neighbor sells 700 pound calves every fall and hasn’t had a bull on the place in years.

Being a rancher also means you must defend your occupation to vegetarians because you grow animals intended to become food. Vegetarians, vegans and various in-between life-choices are those who have never seen actual earth-dirt except that which oozes up between cracks in sidewalks. These holier-than-thou persons preach, with pious conviction, that eating tofu, plastic butter and pretend burgers will allow them to wear a halo, make childbirth a pleasure and live forever.

Here’s news: Someday the “Vs” will find themselves lying in a hospital bed dying of nothing.

I may have “shared” all this in the past, but just in case, here’s the Meat-Eaters-Marching Tribute to the “Vs”.

“Pullquote.”

You may sing, play or recite … Just do it loudly … (tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic).

VEGETARIAN MARCH

Mine ears have heard the stories from the vegetarian nerds

They are trampling on the ranges where my cows once roamed in herds

They have voiced their goofy slogans till we’re sick of silly words

Chorus…

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Their shoes are made of cow.

The vegetarian watcheth from the safety of his camps

He babbles his religion in the evening dews and damps

As he worships leeks and lettuce in the dim and flaring lamps

He will not eat a chop

Chorus…

He hath eaten fiery peppers mixed with eggplant he hath peeled

For protein he eateth tofu which hath yucky taste appeal

He can see a carrot growing far across a farmer’s field

He will not eat a steak

Chorus…

He hath crunched the red, red radish and he loveth lowly beets

He hath swallowed raw alfalfa and hath taketh garlic neat

For broccoli he hungers; he finds cauliflower a treat

He won’t eat burger meat

Chorus…

Oh, he eateth veggies holy so he’ll never come to grief

He prattles and he preacheth that it’s wrong to feast on beef

He keeps his gums a bumping till and he prays for his belief

And forever he doth bleat

Chorus…

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Holy, holy, vegetarians

Their shoes are made of cow. ❖