Trophy hunting scoundrels

Hunting for trophies
The biggest of lies
These disgraceful humans
Will never be wise
They are pickled on wrongness
guilty and shame
Reprehensible scandalous
Known by that name
It’s all about ambush
Cheating unfair
Iniquitous imbeciles
Who easily scare
Inside they are cowards
White feathers and all
Sadistic and Brutal
The big overhaul

It’s coming the drumming
The sacred the right
Will take out these monsters
And, in plain sight
Unworthy to be in the same field
And they
are despised by so many
A shitty display
The animals drugged up
Caged all their life
When the trophy man pays for
The half hour of strife
They let the poor animal out
And we see
A Pratt with a rifle
And puerility

The world ought to stand back
And watch who they are
Dishonest opportunistic
Palm-greasing bar
None if you ask me, the gallows
Is where
These arses with passes
And all unaware
Their self-admiration
Self-centred as hell
They advance their own interests
Of that they do well
Plenty of money
To flash here and there
Stolen from others
They exude, despair

The Queen on her high horse
Hunting in her blood
And all of the Royals
Would have died in a flood
Of savage intent
All the shooting they do
When it suits at the roots
They are hunters too
Supplied by the wicked
The canned hunting farms
So much immorality
Enormity calms
Abomination,
wrong doing they
Supplying the animals
Every day

Supplying the ammo
The guns and know how
And killing the animals
Yes there’s a row
Brewing up yonder
Where the sick and depraved
Should end up one hopes
Where blood lust is craved
The gallows for hunters
The trophy their head
On fucking great spikes
Hang them there till their dead
And leave them to rot and be eaten
For they
Are the lowest of low at the end of the
Day.