This Farming Business
We will not let your wildlife interfere
In our flat-capped industrial business.
We will protect our ground as a fortress
Not leaving no space for your wolf or bear.
Let your disease become an injury,
Inflicted on us so deliberately,
Attacking that which we hold most dearly.
Don't think you'll stop till we’re in poverty.
Don’t mistake then a farm for countryside
Nothing of the sort mate, just a common
myth. We’re here to make a nice profit on
our land, which means we must use biocide.
There’s no wilderness left for you to see.
You think we want critters spreading disease?
Attacking our stock and beaverin' our trees -
that's if decide to leave you any.
Hedges grow ugly and get in the way.
Haven’t you noticed? Why d’you think we
get rid of the buggers when we can’t see
any bloody point in letting ‘em stay?
Shelter and cover do not concern me
Animals are tough. Oh, they’ll be all right.
Anyway, can’t see ‘em, can I, at night
from my agricultural tenancy.
It’s nice and big for my vast family
And don’t need planning permission for it!
Tough on you mate, you don’t like it one bit.
But don’t moan at me for no sympathy.
Stewards of the country is what we say.
And do our bit, don’t you worry 'bout that.
That useless bit o'land is total crap
‘Tis always a good scam for what you pay.
Ha! The homeward ploughman don’t plod these days.
I sits in me nice warm powerful tractor.
And don’t care if earth gets compacted or
turned to mud. Yours is just another craze.
We’ll plough on for sure cos that’s what this is.
You should know by now it's an Industry
The soil is the floor of our factory.
If you still don’t get it: this is Business.
© R M Meyer
North Devon, March 2019