It’s a bit early for the Art and Music against Fracking Week (that starts on 30th April) but this parody of Wordsworth  seems appropriate given the time of year.


I wandered lonely as a bee.


I wandered lonely as a bee

That dips through meadows lush and still,

When all at once – what’s this I see?

A host of gleaming fracking drills!

The lake’s been pumped, the locals flushed.

Trees shake and tremble in the dust.


Relentless as the desert heat

That sears all life from sand-swept plains,

The juggernauts grind through in fleets

Along the narrow country lanes.

Ten thousand feet the drills bore down

Bee-lining their way beneath the town.


The homes above them quake, but that’s

A minor care when streams run dry,

When methane’s leaking from the taps

And toxic clouds swirl in the sky.

We gasped and gasped – to no avail –

Clean air’s worth less than gas from shale.


And oft I dream we all object

To short term focus by the fools

Who care not if the earth is wrecked

By big buck raids for fossil fuels.

Rays warm, winds blow, waves rush – and still

They dance in with their fracking drill!


© Jo Peers