Out Of The Woods

I wrote this poem when it was first announced that the Government intended to sell off some of our national forests to the highest bidder in the private sector.  There was a huge back-lash to these proposals, and the immediate threat receded when the most draconian aspects were kicked into the long grass.  Then it went quiet for a bit.  More recently it appears that some of these plans are still moving forward, albeit on a smaller scale, and on a more stealthy basis.  We still need to be wary.  This is my version of the plaintive plea "woodman, spare that axe!"

Out Of The Woods

There’s something nasty in the wood-pile,

There’s a dark shadow crossing the lands:

The Government are selling the forests,

And taking them out of our hands.

They say that it’s Open Society,              

To manage the forests in this new way.

And it doesn’t matter who owns them,

But it seems we’re not getting a say. 

We see the trees, the oaks, the elms & the ash;

They see the great profits from selling.

We want to keep the amenities,

But they’re not asking us, they’re telling.

They say that it will all be protected,

That walkers & cyclists won’t have to stop,

But private forests must show profits,

So ancient broadleafs are facing the chop. 

Refrain:

 If they take all our woodlands away,

And let in the loggers and axe-men,

There’ll be nowhere to hide any more -

Where will we keep our Unicorns then?

For who can afford to buy these forests,

Unless there’s a profit motive in mind?

They’ll be planting commercial conifers,

For timber, I think that you’ll find.

They’ll be after the subsidies you see,

And the tax-breaks as part of the deal.

They won’t be interested in wildlife,

Nor any of the habitat, I feel.

It’s all about exploitation, you’ll find,

With cash-crops, profits and yields.

They don’t care about the landscape,

The hills, the valleys and fields.

There’s no gain in wild animals,

The squirrels, the badgers and foxes.

There’s no money in birds or in bats,

Only in timber that can be made into boxes.

 Refrain

Where would Robin Hood have been,

Without his beloved Sherwood?

With nowhere to hide his Merrie Men,

He could never have acted for good.

Without Grizedale, Thetford and Kielder,

And our wonderful Forest Of Dean,

Without Cannock, New Forest and Boland,

Well – you begin to see what I mean.

So if the government must sell off the silver,

Because they are so short of cash,

We’ve got to do something to stop it:

We don’t want them doing something so rash.

Let’s prevent this chainsaw massacre,

And cut off their plans in the bud.

You see there’s a long way to go yet,

And you’ll find we’re not out of the wood.

Refrain

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2011