The hedgerows hold the cover
Where Wildness did exist
So many victims quietly
stolen from the mist
Of time as earths were emptied
By the prowling poacher man
The National Park in Pembrokeshire
Across the years did span
Snares and traps a plenty
A killer on the loose
So many foxes murdered
I can I think deduce
Families have been suffering
As partners there were killed
Were tortured in his darkly traps
Their precious blood he spilled
For fifty years this encroachment
Was happening at will
Offences of the dreadful kind
A ruffian whose skill
Was measured and prolonged in time
To slaughter and to see
As many wild souls taken away
As possibly there could be
The countryside was clearly
A place of infernal woe
As partners left to hunt
And then went missing from the flow
Caught up in the wretched snares
And His abuse of breath
The prowler of Pembrokeshire
The proprietor of death
David Sneade the culprit
Who took it upon himself
To catch and kill the fur boys
With coarseness and with stealth
It was all about the crimson fur
For the hags across the sea
In Sweden and the United States
Where his market seemingly
Clubbing to death those still alive
In the snares left here and there
Vulgar and defiled they were
Such thoughts create despair
Unable to reach their partners
And family members they
Many died with broken hearts
And were helped too on their way
the brutality of clubbing
And dismembering them they
Skins and pelts sold onto
The heartless right away
This guy was the epitome
Of efficiency we hear
Trapping torturing killing
And spreading so much fear
Hundreds of our wild friends
Found the rainbow bridge in Wales
Torn painfully from their families
So many Torrid tales
Of loss of absolute purgatory
The red boys wisdom lost
Murdered Sadly in cold blood
And “Anubis” bore the cost
dismembering the bodies
Brain fluid then was used
Which aided preservation
Creation he abused
The poacher mans exhuberance
For killing proved to be
A lucrative and successful
Wild life killing spree
And posting on social media
His exploits he did show
As arrogant as the day is long
Offensively we know
Upsetting the warriors
The Animal rights brigade
Forced to see the photographs
Of his dead red fox parade
Away from earth and hedgerows
The cubs many they died
Many a vixen perished too
Clearly were denied
The natural love and caring
As families broken too
The poacher man of Pembrokeshire
All his dreams came true
He crossed the moral boundary
The fox and their want to be
His grossness and his shamelessness
His insatiability
Unrelenting unabashed
Remorseless obduracy
No compunction for his crimes
Pitiless was he
A hunter from a young age
Which does provide us all
With proof that children hunting
They just break every rule
By carrying on the carnage
The agony and the pain
The monstrous and the flagrant
and the totally insane
One hundred and fifty thousand victims
Lost in awful ways
through the years of terror
He who murders stays
A king
Out in the forest for the wild boys
Met their end
Their vixens no doubt pining too
At Losing their best friend
Mother Nature and Anubis
Are now part of a power
The magic of wild places
Every true SPRING flower
That bursts out through the hedgerow
The hazel the Hawthorn
The constancy the fidelity
The conscience of those torn
And broken by the wayside
For the hags and bags of old
Whose tumours will be growing
In the months when yes the cold
Chokes the mean emotion
Freezes out their soul
And The evil of now wearing fur
That the poacher man had stole