Nestor productus

What were convicts to eat then, if not us?

Our barks attracted the ragged men to us,

Like faithful mutts wanting the attention

Of their masters, we were happy to share

Our small island lot. Everything we had we

Gave you willingly, trying to help you poor

Bastards out. But this was how you repaid

The debt. Our nesting hollows you cut down

To house your mob. In your desperate hunger

You throttled us like your victims back in the

High Street we suppose. You were convicted

Once already for the term of your natural lives.

So killing more was of no moral concern, as

Long as the warden of hunger was appeased.