Iceland 112 and 113

Its continual
It is catty and its spiteful
The Message Iceland sends
No wonder in the world at large
Few call them their friends
Whales are given short shrift
By these callous brutes
Unsympathetic morons
Who don’t got any roots

They call themselves norse giants
But reality proves they
Are totally insensitive
How they commit their day
Harpooning the great fin whales
Juveniles they be
And pregnant females
Slaughtering babies
That is what we see
Loftsson is a maniac
Dead from the neck up
Blood thirsty and barbourus
Not worth not a cup
Of anything thats reasonable
He is totally unfair
Very very tyrranical
And alas unaware

So another two whales
Have hit the froth
The surf the evil blue
Exploding grenades have killed them
Its what icelanders do
Those whales they cried in agony
And it took a while
Harpooning whalers are a pain
Completely off the dial

I do feel for the angels
That ply the oceans wide
Having to contend with idiots
With nothing left inside
Their heads not a speck of empathy
For any living soul
Only great big writhing maggots
Who have taken all control.

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