In the year of our Lord 1903, in the meat packing plants off the shores of the sea
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Stood a young man at his slaughter post a newby by his side
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He said grind it up and ship it out doesn¡¯t matter what¡¯s inside
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With poison bread to kill the rats, an effective tool of trade
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Just grind ¡®em down to sausage it¡¯s not hard for a work day¡¯s pay
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Look busy boy here come the derby coats
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He knows the plan to fool our land so we¡¯re all in the same boat
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Chorus
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Welcome to the Jungle of the Midwest Sea (4x)
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Miles and miles of these stock yards run wild,
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The biggest in this country it gives our city style
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The world will never know the shape their food is in
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It¡¯s not our fault we¡¯re worth our salt it¡¯s the rest of the world¡¯s sin
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There¡¯s no law against our action, no law against neglect
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We¡¯re doing well in business no matter the effect
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We¡¯re the butchers of this country we¡¯re the workers in the mud
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We¡¯re the slaughter house advisors, we¡¯re the bleeders of the blood
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Jungle Of The Midwest Sea
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| Flatfoot 56 |
