They walk in our midst

Theres and unsightly hideousness
Sharing our spaces
Their countenance countrified
Forbidding faces
Land owners farmers
Bumpkins maybe
The rustic the caustic
Bloodlusting they be

Throwbacks to an age
Medieval before
People took heed of the ways
Of the law
Respect for the wild tribes
Was lost in the ways
Of time immemorial
The wrinkled gaze

Blood sports took fashion
They lived for the sport
For the power of their dogs
It took over their thought
Baiting the badger
Hunting the fox
Coursing the Hare
Nothing orthodox

It leaves a bad taste
In my mouth anyway
Inelegant philistines
Making souls pay
To be harried and chased
To be frighted and caught
To be bitten and snarled at
And anyway sought

Its against the law
Old Brock has that stand
He is not to be cornered
His sett is his land
His freedom to be
His freedom to say
And let mo man despise him
For there is no way

He must ever be baited
Be bereft of hope
Be put to the fear
That he could never cope
With his powerful claws
And his dangerous bite
He could inflict some wounds
For the dogs as a right

The poachers and Lampers
Supposedly are
Countrymen stalwarts
But clearly they scar
And scour all the places
Doom merchants they
Go after sweet Bruin
Any given day

Quiet and docile
But when cornered he be
A warrior breed
Who can fight who can see
A dog on his way to the rainbow bridge
Where
A bloody encounter
With so much despair

Its been illegal
For two hundred years
So why its still happening
Why all these tears
Are being shed
At the end of the day
With the wild life units
Not making them pay

Its their unmanliness
a big girls blouse
Spiritless spivvery
Wasting their hours
Bringing discredit
To countryfolk they
Are held in contempt
At the end of the day

Arrogant haughtiness
Sneering they be
Always in the right
Presumptive flagrancy
Impudent mannerless
Good at abuse
Rude and uncivil
Will often traduce

The goodly the upright
And go on their way
With a hatred of wildlife
A nauseating twang
Quick into anger
And so quick to hang

Reasons to be
As aggressive as hell
To any who caution them
Who dare to tell
Will soon feel the smouldering
Acerbity
The tantrum the tizzy
Their indignity

And what of the Badger
dear Bruin dear soul
A wonderful mother
Who takes on the role
Of defender against them
The lout of the year
With his dogs
Getting bitten
And bloodied I fear

They are bloodthirsty barons
Of bitchy intent
Barbarous infidels
Lucifer sent
Ready to tear out the heart
Of a soul
Or watch their wily lurcher
Just take control

There is no lack of pity
Just a badness of heart
Never compassion
A sadistic fart
Stands between us snd them
As the badger recoils
As the temper inflates
And certainly boils

Its a fight to the death
It is wrongness all through
Bitter and unwarranted
All that they do
The police must come down on them
Heavy and hard
For to write as I do
I’m a saddening bard