Pray tell me, Monsieur Ragondin
how hard it is to be
the target of revulsion and
such harsh antipathy.
There was a time you valued us
and farmed us for our fur.
We kept your foolish women warm,
you cared not what we were.
You burrow in our river banks
and devastate our fields,
destroy our plants, and this is why
we hunt with guns and steel.
We came not of our own free will.
‘Twas here that we were brought,
then, when no profit could be made
you freed us, without thought.
You breed your evil colonies,
glide slickly through our streams.
Your sepsis-ridden orange teeth
pollute our children’s dreams.
You took us from a warmer clime
to Europe’s icy grip.
Our young ones die a painful death
when frosts and north winds nip.
We’re wiser now, but it’s too late
to change what has been done.
We must conserve the future now.
Poor Monsieur Ragondin.