HYMN OF THE SCIENTIFIC FARMERS 
(from "Appreciating Poetry" Sadler/Hayllar/Powell)

We squirt the fields and scatter
Our phosphates on the land:
'Organic waste' and 'humus'
We do not understand.

We slaughter trees in thousands
To sell for what they're worth;
No stems to hold the water,
No roots to bind the earth.

Our farms will turn to deserts
Where not a crop can grow,
But long before that happens
We'll take our gains and go.

We'll strip the lanes of hedges;
No wildflower must survive,
Nor bird find place to nest in-
Let only insects thrive!

We spray to kill diseases,
And once a cure is made
Some other pest is started:
But that is good for Trade.
 
We rob the flour of virtue
We have a rifled sack;
And then with new synthetics
We almost put it back.

We pump our fowls with hormones
As fast as fast can be;
Consumers die of cancer
But we're not there to see.

Our God is an Equation,
And Profit is our goal:
'Exploit the parts like fury-
Forget about the whole'.

CLIVE SANSOM
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