Colin F. Jones

BE IT ALL TOO BLUDDY LATE

The pumps have long been working
pumping water from the creek,
that everybody round the place,
water their carrots every week.
But now all these city folk
are flocking to the sun,
and using all the water,
to swim in and for fun.
They buy their packaged carrots,
from the shop just down the street,
next door to the butcher,
where they buy their frozen meat.
They don’t realize that carrots
need water to make them grow,
that the flowers in their gardens,
are just for bluddy show.
They don’t think about the cattle,
that are slaughtered every day,
nor the chickens and the porkers,
for which they have to pay,
is how they get their dinner,
they wash down with the wine
that is dependent on the water
that is sprinkled on the vine.
What can we do with ignorance,
what can we do with fools,
who just wallow in their affluence,
and poison all the pools.
Well wheels they turn full circle,
so I guess we’ll have to wait,
until they push pedals further
be it all to bluddy late.