Held in the bosom of Severn and Wye

An ancient wooded land

A cradle for the wild, home for mankind

A sanctuary bathed in precious green

An Ark for life's sweet bounty.

Yet Greed's Bloody Hand moves in again

To rip apart its woodland frame

Forging justly words that will bring her down

Education, employment and institutions

Roads and concrete and capital pretexts

Capitalising, justifying, stripping, killing.

Greed's Bloody Hand must have it all

Hack out her ribs and keel

Her decks and hull

Her mast, her bow, her stern.

Plough through our mining heritage

Steal our public land.

Bats that fill our nights with awe

Butterflies and bees, a trillion ants will be no more

Our birds, our creatures, all our precious life.

Do they really not understand the consequences?

So, let's take a look, what lies ahead

Your reward for generations to come.

Look, the hurricanes are here

Carbon and economic storms rage like Noah's floods of old

They've moored the Ark safe and sound, have they?

But not for creatures two by two.

We ask Greed's Bloody Hand, was this your plan?

No more life-breathing within the forest green?

Politicians of every ilk, should note before they agree

Beautiful old skeletons reclining peacefully

Below the waters of the Dean?

– Andrew Gardiner, Ruardean.