Forget about carbon; forget about trees;
forget about ozone; forget CFCs;
forget about doing your washing on thirty;
forget about compost – it’s stinky and dirty;
forgetting about turning your thermostat down
and huddling under a thick dressing-gown.
Your efforts, perhaps, are more work than they’re worth:
it’s not homo sapiens wrecking the Earth.
Look not to the factory – look to the field;
take fright at the high carboniferous yield,
for gallons of methane are bubbling now
from the beefy behind of each flatulent cow.
Yes – Buttercup, stalwart of farming tradition’s
destroying the world with her anal emissions.
The air’s full of toxins who’ve frequently passed
through four bovine stomachs and one bovine arse.
Don’t mince any words, for this beef takes the cake;
the safety of all of the planet’s at stake.
So scientists – with no regard for their own –
must venture inside the nitrogenous zone.
Biologists, chemists and cow-literati
have gathered to ruminate: “Wherefore so farty?”
The prompt preservation of planetary status
requires a reduction in ruminant flatus.
Whilst grass ain’t sufficient to make them be green,
some garlic might render their bottom burps clean.
We’ll rescue the planet and rescue our noses
(assuming it doesn’t cause cow-halitosis).
I’ve milked this too long, so I’ll come to an end.
Let’s hear it for garlic, the planet’s best friend!
Whilst Ermintrude’s hoofprint of carbon gets thinner,
I’m off to sit down to a pre-seasoned dinner.