All up and down the land,
Driven away, no friendly voice
Never an outstretched hand.
For weary paws of little beasts
Torn and stained with red,
And never a home and never a rest,
Till little beasts are dead.
Oh God of homeless things, look down
And try to ease the way
Of all the little weary paws
That walk the world today.
-Author Unknown-
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http://www.peta.org/
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