Smelly Doggerel

A dash of doggerel for the Poets & Storytellers United, whose theme for the week is "smell"...more or less inspired by one of Mike Adams' recent rants:

Many say the smell of wood,

As it burns, is very good;

Wood decaying down to duff

They agree smells nice enough;

Wood cut into fresh new timber

Is a fragrance to remember;

Wood is even finely shaved

That its fragrance may be saved;

But for trees Bill Gates's wish,

Last reported, smells like fish.

Is it foolish? Is it mean?

Gates, purporting to be Green,

Bought farmland grown up in trees;

Now he's telling us that he's

Planning to cut those trees down,

Plough them back into the ground.

Gates, not born nor bred to farm,

Will most likely do great harm

To whatever lands he's bought,

And whatever goal he's sought,

If he does a thing but sell,

And he knows this very well;

Though the fields were "cleared," we know,

Just a hundred years ago,

That clear-cutting did harm then

And it would do harm again.

But there's method in his madness

(To admit it causes sadness):

Now the world knows old Bill Gates

To be all "tradition" hates,

Some "conservatives" are gearing

Up, Gates' name so greatly fearing,

To petition and demand

Constraints on the use of land

That they have so long opposed

When by anyone else proposed.

Gates still thinks outside the box.

Gates is crazy like a fox.

Lord, what good Gates might still do

If he'd only turn to You.