The Whale

The Whale it seems is in decline
There’s not so many in the brine
Although they talk and sing to mates
Their future is in dire straights
Unless hunting of them by us
Ceases or at least abates

The Whale it seems aint doing fine
There’s not so many in the brine
We kill them off for our delight
And put them in an awful plight
We turn them into oil and steaks
And all we do for Whales is take

The Whale it seems will need a shrine
There’s not so many in the brine
We kill them off by our design
And leave their bones to sink down deep
With no responsibility to keep
These wondrous animals alive

The Whale it seems is nearly gone
And soon will come a blood red dawn
When there are no more Whales to see
No Blues, Bowhead or Humpback
No more Beaked. Ginko or Fin
All will perish through our sin

Physeteridae, Kogiidae and Monodontidae
Will in the brine no longer be
No more breaching, no more song
No more pods all in a throng
No more Orcas or Dolphins there
In the brine for all to share

The Whale it seems is in decline
There’s not so many in the brine
Although no harm to us they make
Their future is in dire straights
Unless hunting of them by us
Ceases or at least abates


© Angus Dei

Angus Dei on all and sundry

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