They sacrificed a wild Hare for fun

Such wickedness
Such arrogance
A baseness of their soul
Our wildlife and our heritage
Lost the ugly toll
Of improbity
And injustice
And roguery rolls on
Whilst our precious HARES
And FOXES are murdered
And are gone

They ride to hounds
These scoundrels
Their eminence oblique
Many in with the coppers
The corporates they seek
They bear no guilt
Or censure
Blood guilty yes a wrong
They dance in sick profusion
For no where do they belong

Their laughter it is baseless
Backsliders everyone
Dressed up in their fancy gear
Raw-heads in the sun
Recusant
Unregretting
Graceless violent brutes
Pumped up on their arrogance
And pitiless pursuits

They undervalue everything
And disparage when they can
They are an affront to justice
For eleven years the ban
Should have taken them to a cell
But they carried on their quest
To rid our world of the innocent
The indigenous and the best

Without gratitude or feeling
Or appreciation they
Ride into the countryside
And steal wild souls away
Iniquitous wrong doers
Blackguards in full sight
Tortfeasors if the truth be known
Who are in fact a blight

Upon what is our countryside
With such charm and appeal
A paragon of virtue
Its out there its so real
They are the defacement
The hideosity
As odious as anything
That any soul can see

A Hare lost in a moment
Its loveliness is gone
Its wit its grace its pretty face
Once it was upon
This earth to bring us melody
The music of the muse
The mourning of the moment
Tear shedding how we lose

So much to the sick riders
The sherry pickled louts
Who bring their tribulation
In their varied bouts
Of racing through our hedgerows
And signalling intent
Admonishing the saboteurs
Every one well meant

Its all about deliverance
Retrieval of each soul
Salvaging some sanity
Breaking their control
Those corruptive aspects
The old boys and their game
The darkness and the shallowness
Uncovered by the flame

The totally unenlightened
The untutored the unlearned
Unplumbed untried untested
Their fingers never burned
The police turn a blind eye to them
The hunter seems to be
Someone of importance
In the big community

The Hare that poor wee soul
Who lost her life today
As innocent as the day was long
But for their fun had to pay
Torn to bits by rabid hounds
Trained to be obtuse
Brainwashed by the criminal
Who should never be let loose

The Fox and all the wild one’s
Who frequent our countryside
Warts and all they are out there
It must never be denied
They have their expectations
Their freedom to just be
Living and believing
Every possibility

Eastern Harriers
Shottisham
Suffolk murdered this little Hare
My poem is in her honour something these so called
Humans have lost she died 13/2/2016
Rhanks Rob Hill for your dedication and love
And briliiant photography