Boxing day hunts

Fat guts
Fat arse
Riding out
on this boxing day
Cutting up the grass a lot
The hooves they will put pay

To banks to fields to edges
They will soon be lost
Chopped up ground
The crack and sound
At someone else’s cost

Riding on their thoroughbred’s
Whip in hand of course
Riding through the forest
So sorry for their horse

All yesterdays turkey
Rumbling in their guts
And all that oloroso
And those confounded nuts

Making the horse struggle
As he leaps across a gate
Over a hedge
And seems to wedge himself
At any rate

He isn’t really enjoying
This scamper across the park
He is getting a bit frothed up
But he is trying to make his mark

Tally ho and off we go
Across ma jefferies land
Tearing up her vegetable plot
Can we understand

Why country people put up with this
Damage yes it be
They tore through all her fences
And broke them actually

There is a law in England
That hunting with dogs is banned
So what are all these tory toff types
Got whips in their hand
The hounds are yelping wildly
Could be they smell a fox
Hunting with dogs is illegal
To The cells boys
And bring the locks!

Fox hunting is an anathema
Its what the rich sods do
Go out to kill our wild life
Get their hounds to chew
On a fox like crazy
And kill the cubs who wait
In the earth fore ever
Is she is on the hound dogs plate