battening our flocks

Crunch-time was coming - let this be remembered in the midst of all these adventures, all this activity and drama

The half-head drips with molten fat, and the cachucha man (who is in a dark suit with shirt and tie) winces at the heat as with both hands he rips it apart, yanking a chunkful of cheek from the pig's grinning profile, hot grease streaming over his hands and splashing out into the crowd.

pomp'd for those hard trifles