Mistaken identity

Its mistaken identity
Your honour
Thats his excuse
And we hear
The judge summing up
Spoke of his firearm
But sadly for me
Its too clear

Eyesight
And mindfulness
Clearly this clown
Needed both
And didnt have either
And down

Went the pony
A sweet little soul
That belonged
To a child
Meek and mild
He out of control

Was shooting at foxes
More wild souls alas
Why was it right
To kill foxes
A morass
Of ill feeling
Within him
Thats if you ask me
He should have been locked up
And throw away the key

12o hours work
He must do
unpaid
And a fine
500 pounds
Yes its true

That was the price
Of the innocent foal
And the sadness and stress
Of the child
The poor soul

For me shooting animals
Is wholly wrong
Its about time
All people with guns
Went headlong
Into a river
And didnt come back
For me it is wicked
And still he got slack

Killing is what it was
And he got off very lightly

Take the gun away for five years at least
Have his eyes checked
And re checked in five years