The hunters

They paint a picture of innocence
Of irreproachability
Harmlessness and saintliness
Ofcourse its their big mystery
For they are rich in financial terms
But very wicked too
Their principles of evil
We know come shining through

Unvirtuous and amoral
Transgressing yes through time
Sinful and nefarious
Found in a forests slime
Their selfishness self evident
Parsimonius creeps
Complicit in the murder
Of a wild fox whilst she sleeps

This is the so called hunter
The liar and the thief
He never can recant his tale
He is beyond belief
A murderer and a drunkard
And a nasty bit of work
Obdurate and stubborn
And in the darkness is where they lurk