I've quartered the meat,
There's nothing left in this trailer to eat.
I'll get up and go
Out to the four-lane highway, where the critters move slow.

They blink and they end
Their lives, squashed there next to a toad.
Get some lunch for my baby--
A "done" boar on the road.

I know that Route 3.
Tricky to cross--I once found a dead monkey.
I'm feeling so glad--
That flat feral pig has not yet gone bad.

In fact, it is still hot,
It's harder to pry loose when it's cold.
Take home lunch to my baby,
Over it, truck wheels rolled.

Quick--got to stow it
Before there's a vulture or crow hit,
Because this road's on the carrion flyway.
My sack is roomy, but cars are zoomy
On this busy highway.

OK, here I go,
I can't be slow; gotta be fast on my toes.
I yank by the ear,
I've gotta unbind
It. . .kind of adhered.

Yum? This pork that I found
Has just come unbound.
There is no need to load,
'Cause you don't need guns to slay meat--
It's done for on the road.