Foxy bag

A total lack of intelligence
Feeble minded and low
A bag made from a young wild fox
Who wasn’t going to grow
Any bigger or older
For the huntsmen decided she
Would be preserved till the moths came
For an eternity

Lots of the formaldehyde
To stop the rot was used
On this poor soul wild as hell
Who clearly was abused
Such backwardness
And tomfoolery
The oafishness of man
To create an act of folly
Apparently the plan
Silly and idiotic
Dead from the neck up, thick
Laughable and risible
A thoughtless blooming prick
Who fashions from the genuine
A dead and mindless bag
That looks just like a dead fox
Surely a red rag
To any would be wild life person
A blooming sacrifice
Riddled with preservatives
So as to stop the mice
The fleas the vile bacteria
Finding a new place
And therein keep one’s phone and cash
A gruesome embrace