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But just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous bleating of-
"Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better! Four legs good, two legs better!"
It went on for five minutes without stopping. And by the time the sheep had quieted down, the chance to utter any protest had passed, for the pigs had marched back into the farmhouse. (10.13, 10.14, 10.15)
Second verse, same as the first. This is the end of Animal Farm and the return of Manor Farm. We'd like to blame the pigs—but we can't help feeling the sheep are partly to blame, too. And we think Orwell probably agrees with us.
When they had once got it by heart, the sheep developed a great liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the field they would all start bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad!" and keep it up for hours on end, never growing tired of it. (3.11)
It sure is nice when your propaganda machine is so dumb that it basically runs itself. Who needs reasons or explanations when your sheeple are happy to lie around bleating the latest soundbite?