The great auk is gone,

The Great Auk is gone,

So we’ll never know now

If it cried “Awk”, like its own name;

And Steller’s Sea Cow

Has gone too,

So we’ll never again hear

Its maritime moo.

The Passenger Pigeons’

Great commute is done.

And the thylacine,

Who can say?

It could still be around today.

That’s what we’d rather believe

Than face the fact

That we are butchers, who loose little sleep,

Then wake to kill and kill and kill

Only then do we weep.