A fox cafe where you cans cuddle and eat biscuits and mints

It’s supposed to be a good idea
A novel thing it does appear
A fresh approach a fledgeling place
A drink some biscuits and mints
The grace
Of patting foxes of proving they
Are cuddly wild souls
Who just may
Respond to the loving of city folk
Who imagine their input
Will sort of soak

Into their bodies into their souls
Warm their spirits
Though they are poles
Apart from the humans and far away
From their parents in earths
Where they would play

Will they be cubs
And if so why
Would we split them from their families
It’s a sort of lie
We tell the people
It’s something I
Cannot agree with
And so I sigh

Feeling their angst
For fifteen quid
Glaciar mints and a biscuit lid
Lifted so Fox’s BIS KWITS can
Be served with coffee
Well that’s the plan

Wilderness babies
Should unceasingly
Be out in the countryside
Wild and free
Learning the ropes
The instinctive law
That is what they
Were put here for

Including them in a cafe scene
Diners can hold them
And feel the green
Some education for city souls
But hardly the right place
And their roles

One of nervousness possibly
For really it’s not the place to be

The forest life
And the natural world
That is where they should be hurled
Deep on the sod in the earth below
Getting trained by mum
As they grow
Learning to hunt learning to play
Music and movement
Everyday

Foxes are put upon
Out there now
Hunting with hounds
They show us how
They need to scarper
And know the ropes
Against the hunters
They lose their hopes

So to lose their freedom
And families too
To the cafe owners
A little zoo
Of a place where they
Will be sharing their bodies
Everyday

Coffee and biscuits
Glaciar mints
Sucking and chewing and drinking since
May I hear
When Fox Cafe will open its doors
A beverage or two
And some applause

£15 pounds for an hour an a bit
But as for me it doesn’t sit

Well I am afraid.