Hunters

Its Hunters that are now over abundant
And need to be culled out real fast
Its the animal earthlings and activist earthlings
Who know of course their die is cast

Our planet was created by Nature
With Hunters scooped out of some bog
They didn’t have angelic blessing
Nor realise our mothers slog

And so with their weapons of improbity
They murder and kill without care
They have stolen great lives on their journey
Lives that in fact we all share

Life with its meaningful value
Cut down and torn from this earth
Left bleeding out in some forest
These bastards don’t know their worth

Indifferent and detached completely
Neglectful of family they be
Willing to kill at the drop of a hat
Disparage and scurrility

A wickedness seems so apparent
A viciousness foul gross and rank
Blind to the innocence sadly
Overdrawn on the great karma bank

Their anger and rancour is growing
Their virulence easy to see
Hatefulness and detestation
Denouncing the real actually

A great wind of hopelessness surfaces
Despondency follows along
The weeping and wailing of those left behind
Who lament at the sadness of song

Hunters are poachers the canned and the trophies
The trappers the rappers for want of a name
There is no humility and no civility
And the ability so many claim

Has gone out the window for hunters are sick
Psychopaths really and most very
thick
Lost in pursuit of some innocent soul
Who lives where he was put, and was in control

Hunters should hunt themselves chase after those
With camouflage shirts and mud tween their toes
Pull the damn trigger as much as they like
On shanks’s pony or perhaps an old bike

Blow each other to smithereens that would be great
We could eliminate them at a rate
That really would be the best course of action
A win win and possibly such satisfaction