A Dissertation on Plants’ Rights, by Baxter Black
Johnny Carson Show, January 08, 1987 (I think?)
IN case you can't make out all the words (I couldn't)
Ladies and diners I make you, a shameful, degrading confession.
A deed of disgrace in the name of good taste, though I did it, I meant no aggression.
I had planted a garden last April, and lovingly sang it a ballad.
But later in June beneath a full moon, forgive me, I wanted a salad!
So I slipped out and fondled a carrot, caressing its feathery top.
With the force of a brute I tore out the root! It whimpered and came with a pop!
Then laying my hand on a radish. I jerked and it left a small crater.
Then with the blade of my True Value spade, I exhumed a slumbering tater!
Celery I plucked, I twisted a squash! Tomatoes were wincing in fear!
I choked the Romaine, it screamed out in pain, their anguish was filling my ears!
I finally came to the lettuce, as it cringed at the top of the row.
With one wicked slice I beheaded it twice, as it writhed, I dealt a death blow.
I butchered the onions and parsley. My hoe was all covered with gore.
I chopped and I whacked without looking back, then I stealthily slipped in the door.
My bounty lay naked and dying, so I drowned them to snuff out their life.
I sliced and I peeled as they thrashed and they reeled, On the cutting board under my knife.
I violated tomatoes, so their innards could never survive.
I grated and ground ‘til they made not a sound, then I boiled the tater alive!
Then I took the small broken pieces, I had tortured and killed with my hands.
And tossed them together, heedless of whether, they suffered or made their demands.
I ate them. Forgive me, I’m sorry. But hear me, though I’m a beginner.
Those plants feel pain, though it’s hard to explain, to someone who eats them for dinner!
I intend to begin a crusade for PLANT’S RIGHTS, including chick peas.
The A.C.L.U. will be helping me too. In the meantime, please pass the bleu cheese.
Johnny Carson Show, January 08, 1987 (I think?)
IN case you can't make out all the words (I couldn't)
Ladies and diners I make you, a shameful, degrading confession.
A deed of disgrace in the name of good taste, though I did it, I meant no aggression.
I had planted a garden last April, and lovingly sang it a ballad.
But later in June beneath a full moon, forgive me, I wanted a salad!
So I slipped out and fondled a carrot, caressing its feathery top.
With the force of a brute I tore out the root! It whimpered and came with a pop!
Then laying my hand on a radish. I jerked and it left a small crater.
Then with the blade of my True Value spade, I exhumed a slumbering tater!
Celery I plucked, I twisted a squash! Tomatoes were wincing in fear!
I choked the Romaine, it screamed out in pain, their anguish was filling my ears!
I finally came to the lettuce, as it cringed at the top of the row.
With one wicked slice I beheaded it twice, as it writhed, I dealt a death blow.
I butchered the onions and parsley. My hoe was all covered with gore.
I chopped and I whacked without looking back, then I stealthily slipped in the door.
My bounty lay naked and dying, so I drowned them to snuff out their life.
I sliced and I peeled as they thrashed and they reeled, On the cutting board under my knife.
I violated tomatoes, so their innards could never survive.
I grated and ground ‘til they made not a sound, then I boiled the tater alive!
Then I took the small broken pieces, I had tortured and killed with my hands.
And tossed them together, heedless of whether, they suffered or made their demands.
I ate them. Forgive me, I’m sorry. But hear me, though I’m a beginner.
Those plants feel pain, though it’s hard to explain, to someone who eats them for dinner!
I intend to begin a crusade for PLANT’S RIGHTS, including chick peas.
The A.C.L.U. will be helping me too. In the meantime, please pass the bleu cheese.
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