Minding their own business

A great big orange sky
A golden sun just starts to fall
Ox peckers giving rise to flight
Hunting comes the call
A watering hole
And loads of tracks
A half an hour or more
It could be fifty yards away
Nobody is sure

Locked and loaded
Tension high
The sense of obligation, sigh
Wind up front
And we can see
A buffalo just through the tree

A dugger boy
A huge great boss
These brave hunters
Who gives a toss
One shot two shots
Three shots
They
Four shots
Five shots
A spiteful way

Up ahead
What do we see
A brave old soul
Gone seems to me
Battle scarred
A head of steel
A veteran
Whose very real

Dead to the world
Thats what they do
High powered rifles
Sailing through
Five big hits
And down he goes
A massive beast
I do suppose

This is hunting
Valour here
They never stood a chance
The fear
They shout
about
Was never there
That buffalo
Felt the despair

In truth it’s all mendacity.
fabrication I can see
A selfish act
A violent death
The buffalo gave
up his breath

Iron willed and wayward
Felt the pain
And he will never walk again
Just a trophy on a wall
His life though valued
By us all.

Hunters sicken me