Canned hunting

The epitome of holiday experiences
Is be hoodwinked into thinking that you are
Able to hand feed and cuddle baby Lions
You pay a lot but come away a star
Thats your environmental bit forever
You probably get a plaque on how you did
Then the lions are always
around humans
Really the methodology to rid
Them of any frightening behaviour
They come to trust the humans so no fear
The second part of the great holiday experience
Is select and shoot the lion that you hold dear
So off you go the a big canned farm facility
The adventure of your life and a guarantee
Whatever you can afford there are many options
But you can bag a beast eventually

You can walter palmer lure a lion away from a national park
That costs a lot more but it has been done
If you haven’t got the money you can plump for
A giraffe
All sorts of permutations and all fun
Even if you haven’t got a licence
No matter the canned hunters have it made
They are selling lion bones and calling them tiger bones
Adding other ingredients so thats puts paid
To loss of margin for some operators
They are making a killing after all
If Walter Palmer can get away with killing the iconic Cecil we Can all be judged by the same rule
Thats the very precedent they were after
Now its a free for all in
Zimbabwe
Canned hunting is an anathema a horror based on hatred
For a species
A farm where nothing actually is free
Wild thats a short word of the past
For all the souls
Are caged or farmed or harvested
So they say
Groomed to be some sick sods hunting trophy
To hang up on his dusty wall some day