There’ll be bluebirds over / the white cliffs of Dover

Yeah? Not after climate change’s arranged the final handover / more like blue whales & sea snails / unpleasant, bioluminescent, lumpy, grumpy-looking things with teeth & sails / who knows? maybe giant ammonites’ll come back / following the ancient, re-emerging ocean tracks / good – I’ll be glad it’s over / it’s about time the Class of Cephalopoda / got a shot at the top / humans? schmumans / they deserved what they got

The thing is – the planet never did really care / if humans were environmentally aware / or not / the planet can take it cold or hot / shrug and say hey ho / mofos / suck on one of my mega tornadoes / or a pipe the size of a supervolcano

The planet’s got aeons of recovery time / to clean up the scene of our heinous crime / I mean – take those bluebird infested cliffs / so much a part of your stiff upper lips / they’re actually made from coccoliths / (bear with me on this) / trillions upon trillions of tiny shells / that very gently fell / from the type of algae that did pretty well / in the deep blue waters of the Cretaceous / so slow it was outrageous / I mean – it really took ages / they just rained down on the sea floor / more and more and more / accumulating as an oozy mud / that got consolidated pretty good / the layers finally starting to appear / at the alarming rate of a millimetre a year / until the big bust-up / when they got thrust up / into those big ol’ walls of chalk / where you like to take a Sunday walk / moaning about the price of fuel / and where your kids’ll go to school / and whether you can afford a pool / or not / and two or three holidays somewhere hot / while the planet sighs and shakes her head / wiggles her feet deep in the ocean bed / dreams of being done with the cliffs of Dover / more than ready to wipe and start over