The Price We Pay Poem by Howard Pipe

We drill and mine our fragile earth
for mineral wealth and all its worth,
against the flow that nature forces,
leaving scars on scarce resources.
Our numbers rise at greater speed,
and the more we grow we sow our seed
on arid land with pest and blight,
to perpetuate our self made plight.

The price we pay is what we spend
on greed as if there is no end
in sight to curb our restless taste
for credit boom and needless waste.
We had to buy into our share,
but there was nothing left to spare,
and when the bill arrived on time
we didn't have a single dime.