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Song of Peace

Song of Peace
by George Bernard Shaw

We are the living graves of murdered beasts,
Slaughtered to satisfy our appetites.

We never pause to wonder at our feasts,

If animals, like man, can possibly have rights.

We pray on Sundays that we may have light,

To guide our foot-steps on the paths we tread.

We�re sick of war, we do not want to fight,

The thought of it now fills our hearts with dread

And yet we gorge ourselves upon the dead.

Like carrion crows, we live and feed on meat,

Regardless of the suffering and pain

We cause by doing so. If thus we treat

Defenseless animals for sport or gain,

How can we hope in this world to attain

The Peace we say we are so anxious for?

We pray for it, o�er hecatombs of slain,

To God, while outraging the moral law,

Thus cruelty begets its offspring�War.

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