They had a regressive attitude
A backsliding desire
To go out and kill the life force
Gods gifts and with the fire
Of guns and ammunition
Basically lie in wait
Or hide somewhere like bandits
And kill at such a rate
Why did people do this
Plump for mortality
Going and chasing wild animals
Or sit up in a tree
And ambush bait or try to catch
Victims for their game
Of Violating Nature
Which Isnt what they claim
They imagined they were tough guys
If they were face to face
Without a gun then theres a chance
But of course its a disgrace
They shoot from 1/4 of mile away
Or at what was just before
Caged up
Drugged up to the eyeballs
Its Something they ignore
Canned hunters bought a package
No stalking guarantee
Many didn’t have rifles
Its on loan, some cannot see
God knows how many shots were fired
At a drugged up Cat
Who ends up crashing in the dust
Really its all shat
Hunters clad in camouflage
All sorts of ammunition
Shot guns rifles bows and arrows
They were on a mission
Just a week in Africa
The catalogue they saw
So much for a full grown lion
And a lot less for a boar
Many did not shoot straight
Or the safari man
Shoots the animal bang your dead
These tourists had no plan
Its all written up and sorted
The taxidermist too
Really we ought to stuff the hunters
And hang them in a zoo
And all of the wild animals
We let in to see those men
Who paid to kill their godly force
Who we show off in this pen
They all went on their killing sprees
Everyone so brave
Shot to death and stuffed in situ
And no one there to save
The great canned and trophy hunters now extinct