Oh, ye savages of men [and women],
Grasping remnants of the white marauders,
Who seized this land from the poor blacks,
With hearts hardened to the tribesmens’ cry,
And your hearts to the cries of the land itself, to be and remain as it ever has been,
Driven by greed to procure unearned wealth,
You will encumber your birth right with a forest of steel,
Ruining for ever its ancient profile,
The skies blanked out with evil metal crosses, that dance and glitter,
In mechanical insult to nature so cruelly displaced.
What greater purpose can mask your avarice?
To save the country?
Such hypocrites, who but scoundrels would invoke such a plea?
Patriotism, always being the last refuge of exploiters,
Who abuse and despoil for personal gain.
A power station, no less, on a huge scale, square miles engulfed,
Wires stringing across the grassland, spinning towers away to the horizon,
Birds, bats once passed freely through these skies,
Now in fog and cloud, at night, they enter a chopping zone,
Whoomph, whoomph, dashed to the ground, life extinct.
This land is not yours to do with as you wish,
You will be called to account for your destructive ways,
Look to the future and the legacy of ruin you will leave behind,
Wreckers of landscapes! The blighted outlooks, a sad mess of wasteland,
Now almost bereft of wildlife.
Leave and live your new lives of luxury,
Brought with the cost of a countryside,
Now lost to those who took joy from its silence and beauty,
Let the neighbours look forever upon your legacy,
But live fast for surely regret will fall upon you as profoundly as the land has been altered,
For you have made a mistake that will haunt you and generations to follow.