HORSES FOR CAUSES.
Flee!
Wild
brumbies,
while you can.
Breathing down on you
comes the ranger man.
He’ll round you up
and
sell you off to the
knackeries.
You’ll be turned to
glue,
curdled up for
batteries.
Perhaps
some of you will be
dog meat. It is true.
Change.org has put up
a site,
just for you.
They have taken your
cause to the world
but Pollies won’t go
there, won’t say a
word.
“Why is this so? “Whispers
the wind.
“Wild horses in
Kosciusko have always bin.
They
are celebrated
in poem and in song,
Now you say, they
don’t belong.”
Sternly, The Ranger,
loudly
exclaimed,
“We Park people need
to protect
all native flora and
fauna,
we do know what’s
best.
This is Crown land
and
belongs to the Queen.
She pays our wages,
We
must be seen
to be doing what’s
right for the land,
rivers and trees,
for the birds and the
bushes and
even wild
bees.”
Spoke the Wind, in a
bluster,
“Well, give the land
back to the tribes.
They will do what’s
best.
They managed this
land long before you entered this quest.”
