Seals and Canada’s shame

Imagine the darkness

Imagine it well

out on the ice floe’s

heaven

then hell

a beautiful vista

of innocence white

patterns of ice

are a wonderful sight

Imagine a baby

one little soul

sat on the ice

in compete control

gazing across the great

whiteness beyond

impressed by the vista

and that extreme bond

tasting his mothers milk

creamy it be

soothing nutrition

so longingly

the sky is as blue

as a sky could be

and the bluest of bergs

floats out in the sea

peacefulness

everywhere

slumber and be

taking in

all of this true

artistry

wait!

there’s a boat

and men clad in blue

picks in the hands

what will they do

drench them in blood

their own blood that squirts

out of their skulls

my goddess it hurts

smashed by these vile sods

these mercenary creeps

a sweet baby shreik’s

as innocence reaps

the dying baby

is ripped from its floe

and dragged across the ice

and we now know

its blood trail

its gore trail

its agony, we

witness, we witness it

we

sink on our knees

our heads in our hands

is there a mortal

that understands

the ways of those devils

who kill now and maim

so that they can have their skin

its all part of the game

The trader in Sydney

who markets them all

a dastardly man

a vile living ghoul

who makes up the skins

in Ankara he

sells them to Princes

and starlets who see

the beauty of wearing a dead babies

skin

the blood on their hands

it never wears thin

the cries of those innocent babies

they’ll hear

on their own death beds

loud in their ear

those seals they were angels

and those of you who

support Harvey Nichols

and others who do

the basest of selling

profits for gore

they will never be prophets

and that is for sure