Walter Slippers canned hunting camps

It is frightening and horrific
It’s everything that’s wrong
The so called Walter Slippers
He does not belong
Anywhere near animals
He tortures them and so
He farms them can you believe that
And the numbers grow

Lions and wild dogs they find his methods
Horribly obtuse
It’s clinically depressing
With his morals very loose
It’s cruelty personified
Depressing to the core
What this man seems now capable of
And many still ignore

Canned hunting is an anathema
A greedy hunters gift
The guttersnipes are everywhere
If you get my drift
All those iconic animals
Africa’s desire
They are the soul of AFRICA
The Kings now Stoke the fire
Of love and real togetherness
For the continent and we
Hate to see this Walter Slippers
Rotten cruelty

AFrica looks and feel like
It’s Lions shot in cold blood
Canned in vile enclosures
To receive the metal flood
Of bullets from the Yankee Doodle dandies with
Their gun
Who reclassify the vitims
Underneath a desert sun

It’s reaching now all around the world
FOr I am in,the UK
With friends all over Europe
Smarting in a way
The price of death and ugliness
On profit for its sake
I can’t abide these insulting farms
for they do make my heart break

Everyone here feel very sad that Africa
Is allowing it and many are looking the other way