Regulation

Sorry Prof Bradshaw
You clearly miss the point
Banning is the answer
Some may say anoint
Your head with drops of tiger oil
But no what I do say
Adelaide I have been there
Canned hunting let me lay

Regulation sorry mate you have got that wrong
Its so corrupt we have to ban it now
It doesn’t belong
In a world where compassion
Needs to firmly be
The whole scheme is an anathema
Of such improbity

The victims are the animals
From the beginning to the end
Petting through their childhood
That does really send
Them into a false illusion
About their lives on earth
Caged and really humanised
Curtailing their true worth

Their wildness we destroy it
Victims they become
And apparently you are taken in
As they offer up their crumb
But its nothing of significance
For everything is there’s
Guaranteeing the so called hunters
Targets for their prayers

And when they are shot the mercenaries
Claim their body parts
Everything is laid on
By those who lost their hearts
So many years again the scandal
Of the tiger cake
Send the bones to china
Yes all that is a fake

Tiger cake made of lion bones
Monkey bones and shell
And sold off as the Tiger Cake
All the way from Hell

Canned hunting is a vile expression
And brings such disrepute
Is fashioned from its being
Its rascality won’t suit
Those who care for animals
I ask you to now try
And go along with us now
Don’t add more to the pie

Really too many criminals
Are mixed up in this trade
Its shameless and dishonest
And it will never fade
Out of the minds of these psychopaths
Don’t lets argue how
We shall feel its so awfully real
For Those living in the now