Harvesting.
Fruit on a tree,
You harvest,
Corn in the field,
Grapes on the vine,
And fruit for many other dish,
But now we also harvest fish,
Or seals,
Or anything that squeals,
A fine distinction would I make,
When someone else’s life you take,
Its murder,
No matter how you slice it,
Or use verbal tricks to fit,
Killing fields are red with blood,
Instead of sod, its ice you got,
Little creatures barely born,
From their mothers breasts are torn,
Clubbed to death, with a sealing club,
Will ever these monsters stop?
Red is all around,
Red tunics too, abound,
To keep away the spies,
Stop them telling lies,
Their masters though
They lay low, don’t tell the truth,
Use subterfuge and ruse,
To keep us ignorant at bay,
They know just what to say,
The common folk in uproar be,
If this gruesome slaughter they could see,
Harvesting is such a classy word,
Me thinks, like the Nazis, killings, called it sport.
©28/02/2009
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Norway, March 3rd 2009, the ships are ready to sail to the North Pole to "harvest" not to kill baby seals; but EU now as forbidden their members to import anything connected yo whales and seals. So Norway now has only Russia and a couple of other to maintain the "industry"
The ships have not giving the Norwegian Government go ahead, because they are considering to give them money to not "harvest" anymore.
Hurrah?
Georg