You just, like, give the strings a little pluck and—plink!—the desire to live another day floats off into the gentle breeze.
Plink! There goes that ol' dignity.
Plink! And self-respect.
Plink-a-plink-a-plink! And that troubling sanity. With that, the pigs have finally achieved their most exalted state: meat.

Addendum: Ready for a chicken with a banjo? There's this feller from a few years back!
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