Palm oil in any shape or formTogether with the so called sustainable version

The forest was alive
With sounds of screeching
The rain lashed through
The undergrowth of green
We sat up in the canopy
Reflecting
How on earth could man have been so mean
And daf’t enough to log the trees
As he had
Tear the heart out of our jungle free
Flood huge stretches
Rich in wondrous flora
And poison mountains streams so regularly.

Mother left us
It’s been just three days now
She was killed
And cut up on the track
Leading into Bally Mutra Village
Getting food for us
On her way back
A shot rang out
She watched us run for cover
Turned on the man
She saved us,she was brave
We got back safe though shaken
Somehow, she’d saved our bacon
But now our future prospects did
Feel grave.

We thought we should go back
To where she bought it
In the safety of the dark we’d see
Even take a gander at the village
That’s Jimbo
and my Sister Ram, and me
To the river, rolling on its journey to the sea
Trying to console ourselves
So tearful and dying just a little naturally.

We got into the village
To the trading posts that sells
Horn and fur and skin and things
And brass and bits of shells
Her hand, the hand of mother
This is the human way
Stuff it full of nonsense
And look the other way

Up upon the mantlepiece

To us it wasn’t fair
We grabbed hold of poor mothers hand
And legged it out of there
When mother died she saved us
And this her hand we found
A sick and awful ornament
To knock out for a pound

Sustainable palm oil those advocating it should be
Prevented we have enough palm oil Thank you and so few wild Orangs