They talked for hours, and at the close 
At last the elephant arose,
And with aq modest trumpet-call
Drew the attention of them all:

"O Beasts of Bingle gathered round.
Though in our search for common ground
 I would not dream of unanimity
I hope our views may reach proximity.
I speak to you as one whose clan
Has served and there3fore studies man. 

He is a creature mild and vicious, 
Practical-minded and capricious,
Loving and brutal, sane and mad,
The good as puzzling as the bad.
The sticky centre of this mess
Is an uneasy selfishness.

He rips our flesh and tears our skin 
For cloth without, for food within.
The leopard's spots are his to wear.
Our ivory unknots his hair.

The tragopan falls to his gun.
He shoots the flying fox for fun.
The black bear dances to his whim.
My own tame cousins slave for him.

Yet we who give him work and food 
Have never earned his gratitude.
He grasps our substance as of right
To quench and spur his appetite,
Nor will he grant us truce or grace
To rest secure in any place.

Sometimes he worships us and Gods
Or sings of us at Eisteddfods,
Or fashions fables, myths and stories
To celebrate our deeds and glories.
And yet, despite this fertile fuss,
When has he truly cared for us?

He sees the planet as his fief
Where every hair or drop or leaf 
Or seed or blade or grain of sand
Is destined for his mouth or hand.
If he is thirsty, we must thirst----
For of all creatures, man comes first.
If he needs room, then we must fly:
And if he hungers, we must die.
Think what will happen, when his scheme
To tame our valley and our stream
Begins to thrust its way across
These gentle slopes of tern and moss
With axe, explo0sive and machine.

Since rhododendron logs burn green
They'll all be chopped for firewood----
Or logged and smuggled out for good.
As every bird and mammal knows,
When the road comes, the forest goes.
And let me say this to the trout----
The bamboo will be slashed, no doubt,
And what the tragopan and I
Delight to ear, will burn and die.
But what will happen to your stream?
Before the reservoir, your dream 
Of endless space, can come about,
The soot and filth will snuff you out.
What tolls for us is your own bell.

And similarly let me tell 
The leopards who may fancy here
A forestful of fleeing deer---
After your happy, passing slaughter,
You too will have to flee from water.
You will all be homeless, like us all.
It is this fate we must forestall.
So let me say to every single
Endangered denizen of Bingle:
We must unite in fur and feather----
For we will live or die together."