Snobbery murders

So many untruths
And downright lies
Surround the grouse moors
No surprise
The callous way
The wild souls
With their lives
All pay

Its snobbery
Its fabrication
Yes a delegation
The glorious twelth
Or so its called
Hatched concocted
And we are fooled

By no one really
The killing fields
Heather moorlands
Greatest yields
Of the fine red grouse
Fast movers they
Show their wings and fly away

Its all about money
And snobbery
And because of this
What we do see
Are hundreds of victims
Who have to pay
For a rich mans sport
On a summers day

From the 12 th of AUGUST
Till the 10th of December
The hunting parties
In their hide
8-10 guns watch the runs
Driven birds
with no where to hide

Yorkshire Water
Owns much land
And lots of others who understand
The needs of moorland
Of wild tribes there
Who must be shown full on despair
Hen harriers
Beautiful souls
Full foul alas
To the controls

Many shot out of the sky
Their dance of death
Is very high
Drive by the beaters
Game keepers aglow
FOXES crows and stoats
And weasels
This lot have to go

Kestrels eagles buzzards
Red kites as they fly
Goshawks osprey all these
Beautiful wild birds
Have to die

Ravens hooded crows
Its wildness through and through
They dont want competition
Its what the shooters do
They want to bag the red grouse
Shoot it from the sky
Its all about the sport
Its wrought with agony
On high

Its about obliteration
Of our wild created souls
The intolerance of shooters
Who want to exact controls
They are uncompromising
In every single way
Fanatical and bigoted
Making wild folk pay

And its premeditated
The order of the day
It is very distressing
When wild life has to pay
Laggards far from mindful
Of environments around
And kill just for the sake of it
Its that commercial sound

hurtful and injurious
Bitterness and pain
Oppression and persecution
Viewed with such disdain
What mother nature offers up
A myriad of souls
That might compete with the red grouse
And thus need their controls

They feel the imperfectness
The vulnerability
They think that Nature got it wrong
Their insufficiency
Money in their bank accounts
And the hostelry
The money they can make
And really that is key

The sport of kings and
Politicians too
Anyone with lots of dosh
Who like shooting who
Love to murder wildlife
The wild birds of the sky
The raptors of the heavens
That also like to fly

With artfulness and cunning
Ofcourse this lot are gunning
To murder all these red grouse
And others in the sky
The glorious hen harrier
And eagles yes they die
When nobody is looking
They are shot out of the sky

The suffering is everywhere
Families of those trapped
Die slow deaths that no one sees
And their lifes blood is sapped
The shooters joy is short lived
The wild souls lives are long
Remembered by the carers by the sharers
That belong

Those of us who see the sense
Of predation and prey
Of the natural world, of the biosphere
What happens everyday
Not all this snob behaviour
Of shooting And its pull
But only if your pockets
Ofcourse are always full

Wildness it is absolute
Its naturalness for all
Its not about a sporting chance
It really is one rule
For all of us we abide by it
Predation v versus prey
The old the sick the injured
And the fittest get away

We have to stand as noblemen
And women of this world
And protect all of gods creatures
For all of us have been hurled
Into the great maelstrom
Of life on earth today
And sport should never
Take our true wild souls

Lets protect the victims
The Hen harriers
magpies crows ravens magpies kestrels
Foxes pole cats domestic cats
Stoats weasels pine martens

Protect them all

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