Needles don't lie .
Polarity steers true .
Up on the top of the world ,
the beleaguered sanctuary of purity
where ice floes crash in the blue .

Where polar bears roam
in carniverous defiance
on the run
and shrinking alone .
And the Inuit shrugs his shoulders
and wishes again
for the days when
the cold cut to the bone .
No more ice house ,
this modern settlement
of an outpost home .

Aurora , dance for me ,
in the land of the midnight sun ,
as the gasfield exploiters come ,
and rape the land
of the now not so free .

In the footsteps of frostbite .
Over the head
of the curving Earth .
The rumbling echo of crackling glaciers .
Grumbling like arctic monsters ,
the death throes of thaw ,
carved up from birth .

Head up , head North .
Breathe purity .
Look down on the world
and sigh .
Farewell from the crunching pack ice .
From the continent
that is struggling
to stay alive .