| July the fourth in the market town
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| Farmers have come for miles around
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| Bringing their wives and children
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| A farmer stands with his youngest son
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| Watching their sheep driven from the pen
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| The slaughterhouse is waiting
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| Look they’re turning back
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| They’re frightened
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| Dogs are snapping at their heels
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| Jumping on each other’s backs
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| Hear their squeals
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| The young boy stands looking quite dismayed
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| How can they know they’re just animals
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| Come pull yourself together
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| The farmer tells him to look inside
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| Row after row of raw carcasses
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| Their blood runs in the gutters
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| Listen to their silly bleating
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| Farmer beats them with his stick
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| Milling by the open door
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| Don’t be sick
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| The young boy
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| Takes a look around
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| See people watching blankly
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| And he pities them
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| For they too
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| Look like sheep
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| And he tells himself
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| When he grows up
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| When he becomes a farmer
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| He will just plant seeds of love
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| He will just plant seeds of love
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| He will just plant seeds of love
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| And he will harvest peace |