In the year of our Lord, 1903
In the meat packing plants
Off the shore of the sea

Stood a young man at his slaughter post
A [Incomprehensible] by his side
He said grind 'em up and ship 'em out
Don't matter what's inside

With poison bread to kill the rats
An effective tool of trade
Just grind 'em down to sausage
It's not hard for a work day's pay

Look busy, boy
Here come the derby coats
He knows the plan to slit our hands
So, we're all in the same boat

Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea

Miles and miles
Of these stock yards run wild
The biggest in this country
It gives our city style

The world will never know
The shape their food is in
It's not our fault we're worth our salt
It's the rest of the world's sin

There's no law against our action
No law against neglect
We're doing good on business
No matter the effect

We're the butchers of this country
We're the workers in the mud
We're the slaughter house advisers
We're the bleeders of the blood

Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea

Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea
Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea

Welcome to the jungle of the Midwest Sea