Baby Zebra

British trophy hunters
The scum of the earth
Murdering mother zebras
And their babies just after birth
Imagine that can anyone
The grief the pain the woe
Monsters clad in camouflage
Who slaughter as they go

They Have to pull that trigger
Watch a mother die
And then murder the baby
Such inanity is high
Wickedness iniquity
A sad ending to see
The mother her heart broken
And the utmost devilry

Those insidious vile hunters
They blow £8000 quid
For 10 days hunting
On game farms
really in a bid
To kill As many animals
This is what they do
Safari parks that profit
Yes they profit too

Today I am unable
To hold back how i feel
These three men they are bastards
For me all three reveal
Horrific intentions
Ugly bitter sorts
Deliberate in their thinking
Their heads full of sick thoughts

Targeting a new born
their unsuitability
For life they should be hanging
From a tall, tall tree
Injudicious and untimely
Wretched gruesome scum
Their obnoxiousness is evident
Wretched clearly numb
To any thought of empathy
Of feelings and of care
Shooting for the pleasure
And really nothing there

Inside their shrivelled bodies
Their tight and twisted souls
They should be skewered on blunt canes
What could have been their goals
In shooting down a healthy mother
Having given birth
The godly true creation
Giving thanks to Mother Earth

Depraved they are and will always be
British cowards all three
Measly conniving villainous fools
Damned to hell they be
Lousy putrefying louts
Spiteful through and through
Trophy hunters need killing
The state should do it too

Perfection were those animLs
Beautiful and new
Their faultlessness was brilliant
Immaculate and true
Abject fear and loathing
Unmanliness all three
Chicken livered yellow streaks
Of wind and piss are thee
Craven hearted mummy’s boys
Who if she ever knew
Would be the first to tie the knot
And watch as they turn blue

Zebras are on the red list but you can still kill them in South Africa loophole for the sick ones.