A minority pastime

What a filthy rotten secret
Now hangs in misty mornings
Expletives in red tunics
They ride with driven warnings
A relentlessness and remorselessness
They Give no quarter they
Have no pity
Stuck up sods
And they try to make us pay
An unthankfulness
An ungratefulness
A severity of soul
A callousness
No more no less
That’s apparently their role

If you happen to be near them
They will run you down for they
Imagine they are little gods
If you get,in their way
They will make you suffer
You have no right to be
Anywhere the hunt is
Such indignity

Tongue lashing and a bashing
The sabs get all the stress
And it is against the law
Against the law no less
Cameron is on their case
He wants to now repeal
The hunting ban and be their man
Well it never will appeal

It’s just a minority
Who do this barbaric stuff
Who chase and slaughter
Our wild souls
And for me I have had enough
The countryside alliance
And all the merry men
Who think it’s right to
Hunt the fox
And are now wondering when

Justice will be served
And they will have their rights again
Their cavalier behaviour
Their irreverent refrain
Sarcastic and scurrilous
Outrageous through and through
And we who don’t agree with them
Whatever they want to do

As for the bloody Tories
They have to understand
We don’t agree to fox hunting
Plaguing our green land
A lot of voters will not put their cross
On Cameron’s name
And when he loses by a mile
He can count himself to blame