Gentle Giants of the Sea

'Thar she blows!' the cry goes up a breaching whale is seen The longboat's manned and low'red the lookout's eyes were keen The hunt begins, the whalers chant the oarsmen strain and pull The whaling ship won't turn for port 'til her holds are full The boat seems small, the men seem weak beside the mighty whale but it's gentle nature seals it's fate the harpoon never fails The sea is churned to bloody red the whale takes hours to die but no-one there bemoans its fate no tears in whaler's eyes The killing done the mighty beast is cut and torn apart It's oil and perfume that combine to still the giant's heart The days of sail soon fade away a spear becomes a gun now gas is used to float the beast when all the killing's done Just when it seems that all is lost that all the whales will die the world begins to count the cost of slaughter, greed and lies The gentle giants of the sea are saved from death and pain We never should have hunted them and never should again To see them float with lazy grace to spout and roll and dive To touch their calves, a fluke's embrace be glad they're still alive It's very hard to understand why some still want to kill Their claims of scientific culls are lies that make me ill Let's let the gentle giants live in peace beneath the waves for once they do it's more than whales that we will then have saved From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"