The crimson sluice

The crimson sluice of whale blood
Infused with brine does show
How serious the case is
And how it seems to grow
The Faroe Islanders nonsense
Is seen by all for we
Can’t bear to hear the cries of woe
Coming from out the sea

This murdering and violent spectacle
Is creating far and wide
A virulence of contaminants
Now lurking deep inside
Women and children suffer
The vagaries of men
Who have no regard to life itself
And only think of when

They can kill another Pilot Whale
Tear its head off, and watch
It pump its life’s blood through the surf
Thankfully they botch
Their dietary principles
With mercury and more
With poly chlorination
And heavy metals galore

This affects their unborn children
Yes they affect it all
Their kidneys and their livers
This cocktail does appal
The grind its called
Tradition its known as
We all see
Denmark send its war ships
As protection ludicrously

Which keeps the spirit rising
On these islands where we see
Such carnage, and such bitterness
And such madness actually
Children are immersed in it
Women seemingly
Still consuming the blubber
And dying unnecessarily

We humans exploit nature
And the wild souls of the sea
And we suffer for our arrogance
It seems consistently