My name Is Rory

They call me Rory
To give me some glory
I am from Africa
I am a LION
My babies are cubs
My wife a lioness
Just where I live
A petting farm no less

Cages and cages
Of lions they are growing
Much human contact
Its the seeds they are sowing
Hopeful that hunters
Will come from afar
With loads of big bucks
And their odd fat cigar

Thats when us Lions begin to shake
In our paws
Thats when the brochure
And all of the tours
Are splashed all around to the
Hunting brigade
Who will shoot us quite quickly
And when we are laid

Out on the grass prop our mouth open wide
So all of you can see our big teeth inside
It makes these fat cowards look bold as can be
a bunch of Pratts as you can all see
These days the women are getting in on the act
In camouflage gear and how we react
To see women stand firing bullets at us
Then high five and rant and possibly cuss

I am RORY I roar but not all that much
Actually I am now well out of touch
So many lions bones go off to the east
And the heads to the states
I like that least

Sometimes we roar at night as loud as we can
What we are saying is death to each man
Involved in this canned bunting lark and we hope
To see them all one day hanging on a rope
Its totally wrong and how can it be fair
We once were kings of the castle aware
But now we are slaves we have lost all our pride
And the hunters the lot of them now have denied

The hunting credentials have more or less gone
So called CONservation just goes on and on
A lie they are now killing us every day
Making a mint out of blowing aWay
All us really my roar is a squeak
Our numbers diminishing every week

Tomorrow in London they are marching we hear
Shouting our names out oh yes it is clear
Remember I am RORY look out for me
I answer to REX too and I hope I see
You all as we walk from cavendish square
Right down to Downing street Cameron’s lair
To roar there and shout and try to wake
All of the sleepyheads for their own sake