Duck Shooting in the land of OZ

For flagrancy and shamelessness
The Australian shooter he
Gets out in the wet lands
And thinks that he can be
Just king of the castle
Pointed at the sky
His thrown out chest and swagger
And his prowess I defy

Delusional his hunting clobber
Makes him look a pratt
Two much lager down his throat
He don’t know where he’s at
Firing at the passing clouds
Hoping to hit a duck
The cruelty is evident
He hasnt got much luck

The lead shots going to kill
Not only the duck he aimed at
But where ever it does spill
Lead is very toxic
And whatever eats this soul
That fell down and died slowly
They take on the role

Of neurological agony
Apart from being shot
And bleeding out in some dark pond
Where slowly it may rot
Its cruelty personified
And someone ought to make
All these queer boys stop it
The alarming rate

Of killing maiming wounding
It goes on all the time
these are beautiful creatures
There is no reason nor rhyme
Except that they are bloody cowards
Sitting in a bog
Shootung up into the sky
And expecting their dog
“”
To go and fetch the dead ones
But a lot don’t really try
So many ducks lay wounded
And very slowly die
Its not that they are wanting
Of sensitivity
They die alone all whimpering
Until their souls fly free

Duck hunting is cowardly
Its rascality and more
Agony and the fearsome waiting
Its a kind of war
All hunters are sinners
Braindead and yellow livered
Thats is what they are
A stint in the County Jail
perhaps their actual star

Villains clad in greasepaint
Rubber boots and they
Wrong doers thats their heritage
Where they ought to be
Upside down in quicksand
Sinking slowly they
Wilful disrespectful
Its no way to pass the day.

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