How many Pear Tree’s are there

How many Partridge
In those Pear Trees
Get out the guns Lads
Now if you please
Non migratory
Their Red legs I spy
Chestnut tails
Whirring wings
Oh yes how they fly

Gadebridge The shoots there
Happiness rides
As the lead leaves the barrel
The soul in me hides
Lost in the Saddest of states
At Shaw Dell
With the beautiful Gade Valley
Turned into Hell

Its such fun the shooters
Impatient to kill
A kind of endearment
When all else is still
The mind of a shooter
Simple perhaps
Pull a trigger
Put an end
To a life
Come on chaps

Coveys come hither
Team spirits are high
Bird kinships are lasting
Way into the sky
Cock the barrel and fire
Its what shooters do
Its such fun killing miracles
Honest and true

Remember a face
And all of GODS grace
A Partridge has feelings
Has legs and a face
Has relationships too
A lover maybe
Shot out of the sky
Such a great thing to see

If you’re walking in countryside
Close to the Gade
That chalk stream that runneth
And in your heart weighed
Such miracles cone forth
all over the place
The Pear Tress no more
Isnt that a disgrace

A simple Rhyme at the edge of time
Sent to the gamekeeper of the Gadebridge Estate Office
To read to his flock
And just try to unlock
some empathy