Last twelvemonth ended 350,000 of us were put to death
clubbed or shot, hunters for eternity took away our breath
Close to our mothers, false within in the snow
Few pieces:Philosophical transactions of the Royal Society of London, VolumesDigital Control of Electrical DrivesBlind Date RivalsBroken Wings: the night the cheering stopped
we were but babes and we could not know
When primary we glimpsed the ships on the the deep cold
we were unafraid, not rational they'd be so bold
But onto the ice and finished our land the men strode
breaching our nursery, and entering our house fold
As they approached we looked on, not sufficiently expert to understand
the expressions on their faces, the missiles in their hands
At basic we didn't stir, but next the men toward us ran
it like a shot became a assassinate and we were the lambs
This was our oldest display to humans, staffs and guns
as we looked up, they like lightning stricken us with their clubs
Some of us didn't die from the blows-we were lonesome stunned
our short whist yet trouncing as they abraded us, spilling our blood
Later, the parents or stamp babies who managed to survive
moved on the ice and reddish snow, in disbelief, and cried
Grieving for the vanished ones whose fur-less bodies lay so still
not wise if the mankind would be back, or if they'd had their crowd...
To a future, where on earth "their fill" is away and past
a word to avert the killing, an curse word that will ultimate.
Copyright 2007 Kathy Pippig Harris
If you would approaching to help, the Humane Society of the United States is a pious inauguration.