The Whalers

The Whalers


Savage hunt, you insist to persist,
After knowing boundaries exist.
Vandalizing the sanctuary,
Ensuring the end of your quarry.
Territories easily are passed,
Hanging “scientific” on your mast.
Evil lies to quench your endless thirst,
While we wonder which will finish first.
Harpoons equipped with exploding spears,
Assure, not ‘research‘, but profiteers.
Lessons we continue to unlearn,
Extinction gets yet another turn.
Save these creatures from this dreaded fate,
Next week might just be a little late.
Onslaught cannot be allowed to grow,
Whalers, why can't you just let them go?