Fox Hunting and Sir Ranulph Fiennes

Sir Ranulph Fiennes the explorer
Born in WIndsor he
Was a British Army Officer
One year younger than me

The spirit of adventure
Has always been his flair
Life and equilibrium
Of all this he is aware

Up the Nile by Hovercraft
And to glaciers In Norway
The Trans Globe expedition
A real man so to say

Caring of environments
With a great affection for
The wildlife all around us
Just outside our door

That sentience and sensation
That understanding that
The emotion and devotion
Of the wild ones who are at

One with him completely
He travels and he knows
The wealth that is in other species
Underneath our nose

He went to the Tory Conference
And talked of the hunting ban
Talked about a fox he knew
And, why he began

To think about the hunting act
In his home a refuge where
Wild animals are welcome
In his sanctuary to share

The safety and the loving
That he and his family hold
For all the worlds wild. creatures
For on them he is sold

He spoke of the plight of foxes
With three hunts not that far
From his home and so a dwelling place
And knowing tnat they are

Close he builds his fences
And bushes high and strong
To stop the hunters coming
For he believes they are wrong

The barbarity of hunting with hounds
He knows he sees
Hunting dogs go after foxes
He feels that in his knees

The unfairness of the chase
The catching up and he
Talked of a vixen he had known
Who was bitten so badly

He had called the vet
And left food out
With antibiotics for he
Thought infection could set in
And it did so tragically

So despite all of his efforts
That vixen she did die
Came around to be near his home
in comfort she did lie

He spoke up for the wild souls
And the hunting act must be
Never repealed in England
For few now wish to see

This barbarity a forethought
This evil some call sport
This ignorance of wild souls
And arrogance of thought

What an absolute gentleman
Who takes the stand to say
Theresa May should never repeal
The hunting act for to pay

That price on these green hills
And dales just would be a sin
Here is a man an English man
Who wants the fox to win

To realise that little soul
Took some six days to die
Curled up in a ball she was
Under the blue sky

No doubt crying outwardly
As the infection bore
Though her vibrant spirit
Til she was no more

To grieve perchance to realise
Each little soul has worth
It comes out of creation
To share our precious earth

To live wild and respectful lives
In earths along the way
Who we must never interfere or harm
And never make them pay

The beauty and the brilliance
And true nobility
Of watching wild folk live their lives
Which they all do glamorously

To catch sight of a crimson brush
Or watch a butterfly
Or hear the Owls a hooting
Of the red kites in the sky

Weaving rolling through the clouds
It’s eyes set on the ground
These are the sights to care about
Not the running of the hound

Thanks Sir Ranulph thank you
For all you clearly do
And hopefully Theresa May
Will think twice and each time of you