Clive Sansom, "Hymn of the Scientific Farmers", from Dorset Village, 1962

Clive Sansom was well ahead of his time.

Some extracts from the poem:


We slaughter trees in thousands
To sell for what they're worth;
No stems to hold the water,
No roots to bind the earth...

We'll strip the lanes of hedges;
No wild-flower must survive,
Nor bird find place to nest in -
Let only insects thrive! ...

We pump our fowls with hormones
As fast as fast can be;
Consumers die of cancer
But we're not there to see.

Our god is an Equation,
And profit is our goal:
'Exploit the parts like fury-
Forget about the whole'.



Sung to the tune of "We plough the fields and scatter"

Wikipedia on Clive Sansom - "Sansom was also a committed conservationist and the founding patron of the Tasmanian Wilderness Society. He called himself ‘the oldest ‘‘greenie” in the business’"

Another excellent poem from Dorset Village: The 'Dorset Nose' (two of five verses follow).

Startling to observe on the face of a Dorset yeoman,

Over his darts and beer,

The powerful nose of a grave and ancient Roman,

Imperious, austere...

For Caesar's legions, claiming our land as his

When they had quelled the Gauls,

Did not employ their whole four centuries

Marching and building walls...


Clive Sansom comments, in his notes:

"It is strange how willing we are to accept Britons, Saxons, Danes, Normans and Huguenots as ancestors, and even legendary Spaniards tossed ashore by the Armada, but ignore the Romans who spent four hundred years in England."