Friday 7 August 2015

Poetry Corner

Talking of Roger Harrabin and George Monbiot...

And here's a poem on that very subject - especially GM's idea of bringing wolves back to the UK and clamping down on those nasty sheep who have completely ruined the Lake District for each and every one of us (well, according to George Monbiot anyhow).

Please feel free to be rude about it. (Everyone's always rude about poetry on blogs. Fact).

Big. Bad. Wolf.
Why are you all got up like Granny?
And what's with all the huffing at that door?
And with that oboe-playing duck,
Dying alive in your belly?
And with your comeuppancing  of that poor schmuck
Who used thy name in vain (no more)?
Big. Bad. Wolf. Who's afraid of you? 

Rewild the fells of Lakeland.
Let wolves parade the pikes,
(And butcher birds invade your cage
And hang your pets on spikes). 
The wolves will howl o'er Grasmere,
Fell-runners leap like goats,
And camera crews and Herdwick ewes
Feel terror in their throats; 
And Herdwicks, barbers of our fells,
Crew-cutters of our pikes,
Once fled, the trees will trounce again
The pathways of our hikes. 
The air is full of blood tonight.
The bats are flying across the moon.
The wolves are stirring, sniffing hard.
They'll enter Keswick soon.

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