The seals of Nam

Its a picture of joy
to behold for this group
are babies with mothers and they
are feeding and living their lives to the full
which is what seals do everyday
its idyllic the loveliness it overflows
tranquillity seen from afar
it is so enchanting
the skeleton coast
where this little group clearly star

then comes the dark realization
Namibia has sold its soul
to the highest bidder
a fur trading sod
who buys infant skins
that his role
he doesn’t care, one iota
for babies, for mothers
for joy
he deals in blood snot and sinew
and Namibian’s then they employ

louts with sticks to go and do it
pulverize this family group
smash them to pieces
slaughter them all
and do it, in one sick troop
the babies are nursing, no matter
the sticks rain down onto their head
splattering brains every which way
soon everyone of them’s dead

this evil this harshness
this heartlessness
they all were innocent souls
created to live out their lives
not be slaughtered
that was not to be their roles
the sands are now smothered in
sinew and blood
and the work to redress this
goes on
covering the evidence
with the bulldozers
till the blood and the snot
is all gone

then back come the tourists
to the sanctuary
and marvel at seals on the sand
this the deceit a deplorable feat
we grieve but they can’t understand

how anyone could be so evil
could make contract with people who
take every pelt that is offered
and do just whatever they do
the sight of sweet babies coughing up blood
and milk from their mothers, to me
it sickens the soul there is really no role
in life that ever should be
falling to this vilest level
intoxicated with blood cash
where you would do anything
anything at all
even to bloody well bash
the life out of babies
innocent babies
blind to the evils of man
who wait for their mothers
to feed them and end up
smashed into seal jam

I sit here
and look at that picture
I know what I see
and I know
what is to happen
its totally wrong
and the fear and the pain
it does grow
in all of those who now bear witness
for insanity rules here for sure
a picture of joy
and of naturalness
in seconds a landscape of gore

a zone where the devils
would feast on the souls
tear them apart for their skin
this is a vile nasty filthy affair
born out of frailness and sin
those who earn money from doing this
will rot in hell do be aware
no god will turn aside and let this happen
the rod I assure he won’t spare
at some point it will come down
hard on you all
those killers, those traders
and you
those whose, poor judgement allows you to buy fur
remember what I say for its true.