OH INDUSTRY (Whatever Will Become of Me?)

By Kamala Emanuel

A cloud descends on Mayfield;

It's from the BHP.

We cough, we choke, we splutter;

We vainly try to see.

It greets us when we go out,

It greets us coming in.

It gets up our collective nose,

And grey-ifies our skin.

This stinking smog must stop!

It's time to say enough!

Let's clear the air, and ban for good

Such filthy out-belched stuff.

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