Leanne's climbing on the side of the fence
Staring at the steer that doesn't know what's coming next
And the bolt in old Trevor's hand is a bit of a give away
Sandra's standing on the cattle-grate
Waving her black poly pipe around like a lightsabre
Helping her dad herd the cows on butchering day
You can see the whites in their eyes
Everybody's closing their mouths from the flies
We all get blood on our hands
Filling up the freezer bags
Dog's scratching at the side of the fence
Hungry for the scraps to be fed to them
All the kids - younger than ten
Trev doesn't raise vegetarians
He hangs the beast from a hook in the roof
Takes his best knife and he digs deep into its chest
Like a gruesome piñata
Leanne watches guts rain on the boots of her father
And blood pools into oil stains
On the garage floor on butchering day
'Get out ya mongrel'
He kicks at the dog
Lapping at the pool at his feet
Sandra's bored of the bloody mess
She goes out the front to practise somersaults
With an eye still on that scene
Safely bouncing on the trampoline
And mum hits the dog with the broom
Everybody knows there's just one job to do
Keep out of Trevor's way
On butchering day
Bathroom looks like a Hitchcock flick
And mum's best towels have been in better nick
And the beer in old Trevor's hand is a bit of a give away
Leanne's staring at his fingernails
Black crescent moons on a cracked lunar scape
And she knows better than most when it's time to give him space
Mum serves the mash and the chops
Creeping 'round the kitchen in her slippers and socks
And he eats 'til he's had his fill
On the remnants of last year's kill
You can see the whites in their eyes
Everybody's closing their mouths from the flies
We've got nothing to say
On butchering day
We've got nothing to say
On butchering day
We've got nothing to say
On butchering day