Thug hunters

Canned HUNTING calls for idiots
Its their ignorance that counts
The safari’s that do organise
This new found sport amounts
To very little grey matter
Empty heads they need
Pockets full of money
And a reason to succeed
Big game haha it dont get bigger
The animals are kept
In cages till the day it happens
When ofcourse they are swept
Out into a clearing
And the canned hunter is called
The animal knows the humans
So ofcourse again is fooled

They sit there sitting ducks infact
Waiting to be shot.
at least a bloody salvo
The poor sad soul has got
Not a blooming inkling
He thinks he is going to be
Back in his cage how can he gauge
He never has been free
So there he sits and twenty bullets
All fly past his ear
And probably the professional fires
And then ofcourse we hear
“Good shot” high fives wonderful
A head shot brilliantly
They take your hard earned dosh and run
Thats the travesty

Canned hunting cruel and nasty
No way to treat a soul
Or any other animal
Its just utter control
Its importing foreign idiots
Who cannot Hit the bull
And kid them they are hunters
Its all about the pull
The adverts on the world wide web
Encouraging them to book
So they can kill some caged up lion
And flog their bones, the hook
Is let them take some trophy home
To show their friends so they
Can make up all their stories
About the one that got away

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