Their fur is used for collars
On anoraks which is why
Low life trappers come around
And the innocent souls then die
Caught in cowardly crushing traps
And left to pass away
Of blood loss or starvation
Thats an awful price to pay
Creation gave them freedom
Placed in the wilderness
Hunting men what fucking cowards
They do nit care a less
They are themselves a loathing
And odious bunch of shit
They need their arses whipped a while
That is where they sit
Seeing all this ugliness
This egregious pain
Wanton torture if the Coyote boys
And once again
Its all about the so called stores
And the fur hag VIP’s
They wraps themselves in cruelty
Even below their knees
The insolence of the brain dead tribe
Who very seldom pause
To listen to the moaning
Which their garments cause