This planet, this earth is our mother
And, in our time at least, we will not have another
On which we shall find such a wealth of good things,
Yet we sleep undisturbed while the alarm bells rings.
This planet, this earth out mother, will die
Unless we help her recover.
The air is so foul she can’t breathe anymore
And the oceans deposit black oil on the shores
Where once, long ago, we gathered at leisure
Clean salt-scented shells.
Now for good measure they are covered in sludge
And you are lucky if you can get them to budge
From the place where they’re laying
So stuck to the ground.
And many a murdered seagull is found
Our rivers dry up that once gave us cress
Birds die on sprayed acres-their songs we hear less.
There are parks full of litter, there are bombs being made
And children are dying where once children played.
Dying, right from the day of their birth
Because they are starved on this bounteous earth.
Moon landings were made and oh! How we gaped-
But we turn a blind eye while our planet is raped.
This planet, dear people, this earth is our mother,
IF WE DON’T HELP HER SOON? WE WON’T NEED ANOTHER.

D.L. Hardy-Jesshope (1974)