Page 35 - Bite-size
P. 35
We don’t live lightly on the land;
The earth must feel our heavy hand:
What bears us all is spread around
In tons of dead weight on the ground.
Your show’s a flea circus
And not quite first-class,
If only one small child
Who had a free pass
Is watching it through a
Magnifying glass.
O gladiator
Rooster your fate is
To die in the ring,
Spurred on by gamblers;
Or be euthanized
After they are caught.
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