By Will Tuttle
They don’t want no wolves in Yellowstone,
Or any place else, and no coyotes either.
And if they had their way,
There’d be no more wild horses or any wild creature.
No, nothing to interfere with their livestock game:
Wildness and beauty and grace are denied:
Nothing but farmed cows and sheep and barbed wire,
And souls that have shriveled and died.
Hunters and ranchers with big machines
Would be all that roam the land!
Gone forever tall grasses and trees,
For the sake of addictive demand.
And everywhere the streams are fouled
By inbred huge ungainly cattle,
Loaded up with drugs and misery
And slaughtered in an endless battle.
While people go hungry,
All the grain goes to fattening livestock!
But there’s lots of money, always has been,
For the big meat complex and partner, the surgical doc!
Such blindness! Why fight the earth?
Why bow to the god of fear!
Wearing armor for skin, and also within,
Leaving a trail of dying deer.
No, they don’t want no wolves in Yellowstone,
They can kill all they want,
More than they can eat.
But is that all they’re wasting?
Are they only wasting meat?
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