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No more on Antipodean moors do moas roam.
Like dodos, they have wandered through the door
That’s marked ‘Extinction’, there to make their home
With all the other fauna from the forest floor
Which now are only known as pictures in a heavy tome.
Without the likes of moa, dodo and the rest, we’re poor
And how much longer will it be till we’re alone?
And who’ll be left to mourn for us when we’re no more
And closed the final chapter on Earth’s spinning stone?