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A whale poem |
| “Thar’ she blows!” The whaler cries. “A Southern Right!” Breaches before their very eyes. Harpoons a ready they chase her down. She dies, but many a sailor too is lost and drown. But that was history, when whales were hunted for their oil. Now we seek the chance to view and boast, That a whale we spied. The thought of killing makes us recoil. We watch them, thriving, free to live another day along the Albany coast. |