A poem by Clive Sansom that can be sung to the tune of “We plough the fields and scatter.” Though he may have become a Quaker- at least he was not born into a hypocrite set of family values like those of the Albright and Wilson’s of this world.
“We squirt the fields and scatter Our phosphates on the land: ‘Organic waste’ and ‘humus’, We do not understand
We slaughter trees in thousands To sell them for what they’re worth; No stems to hold the water, No roots to hold the earth.
Our farms will turn to deserts Where not a crop can grow, But long before that happens We’ll take our gains and go
We’ll strip the lanes and hedges; No wild-flower must surivive, Nor bird find place to nest in- Let only insects thrive!
We spray to kill diseases, And once a cure is made Some other pest is started: But that is good for trade.
We rob the flour of virtue, We leave a rifled sack; And then with new synthetics We almost put it back.
We pump our fowls with hormones- as fast as fast can be; Consumers die of cancer But we’re not there to see.
Our God is an Equation, and Profit is our goal: ‘Exploit the parts like fury- Forget about the whole.'”