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at Babraham

(or any other

ANIMAL

RESEARCH

LABORATORY)

 

Let’s conjure up a killer germ

then try to find the antidote

guinea-pigs deserve to squirm

 

we’ll take the udders from a goat

and transplant them to its throat

 

excuse me while I go and gloat

 

there’s nothing like an experiment

to rouse a bit of merriment

 

especially when you’re getting close

to establishing the lethal dose

 

there’s no room for namby-pamby

cute-as-Bambi sentiment

at Babraham

 

animals are ours to use

but we don’t let the bleeders choose

we need to test these new cosmetics

why waste good money on anaesthetics

 

of course we try to be humane

our torture causes little pain

well-placed electrodes in the brain

can stimulate a sense of pleasure

brute suffering is hard to measure

against the data we can gain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so leave all pity at the door

and never ever ask what for

if those brilliant mistaken men

cross a camel with a hen

someone thought it was a good idea

anything goes when you’re working here

(like mouse

with

grafted

human ear?)

 

countless victims die in fear

on bio-technology’s wild frontier

talk of research is just a sham

for sadists pulping flesh to jam

 

 

slaughtering sacrificial lamb

with a toxic milligram

O let’s irradiate a clam

et cetera ad nauseam

 

comparing them with Frankenstein

you’d think the latter was benign

 

they act more cruel than Abraham

the kind of man who’d kill his son

and not regret what he had done

 

GODDAMN  GODDAMN GODDAMN GODDAMN

the things they do behind closed doors

at Babraham

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