Seven Thousand Tigers by Martin Christmas

I was dapping through the archives
21st century, olden days,
when I came across this cryptic note,
‘Seven thousand tigers left’.
But before my birth
they’d all been killed.

Dad says,
‘Stick to generic brands, son’,
so when the food tube came
I read the label, what a shock,
‘Some ingredients are natural. ‘
I throw it out, damn quick!

Mum says,
‘Artificial’s safe and norm,
natural is bad.
Just remember my advice, son,
always eat what’s in a can,
or zap it with your gamma gun’.

Uncle Bill says,
‘When the world’s zoos closed
the animals were minced.
Pets were eaten by their owners.
Animal lib is dead.
Three cheers for common sense’.

I would like to own a human pet
next year they pass a law
that will allow us chosen ones
to buy them from a store.
I can’t wait to get mine,
Dad’s already built the cage.

Cars now in the past.
Old roads are just for walking on.
Those that cannot walk
are euthanased
at road side dumps,
but have your permit ready.

Maybe you can tell me,
‘What’s a tiger?’

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