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 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