The Veal Calf

Here I am in this small wooden box,
Bound up with chains and locks.
What is my fate from here? 
I hope I don't die.

Stuck here through the wind and cold,
Hearing the others, will they too be sold?
Wishing, hoping, praying,
I hope I don't die.

I was taken from my mother, too.
She had warm milk, a soothing moo.
I wonder if she knows I'm here,
I hope I don't die.

Sometimes the others are taken away.
"They're goin' to heaven," some elders say,
Is heaven good? Does it have freedom? 
I hope I don't die.

But, for now, I'm here in this box.
Bound up in chains and locks,
Wishing, hoping, praying,
I hope I don't die.

Copyright ? 1998 by Courtney Ketzler. All Rights Reserved
May be used in unchanged form by avowed Animal Rightists if accompanied by this copyright message.

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