Steeplechase

Don’t you dare blame the angels
Who protest at Aintree
They
Care for the horses gentility
Their nobility is way
In a state of wonderment
So much fascination
How marvellous how miraculous
An enchanting relation
Animals of distinction
High repute and character they
Are dignified and princely
More so every day

Jockeys trainers some of them
Go hunting it appears
Fox and stag hare in the bag
A blankness of the fears
That angels have, test animals have
Conspicuous and acclaimed
And other horses have fallen
And having died now we are blamed

The angels the protestors
The numbers who had come
To safeguard the slave Labour
The three that died and some
Others frail and fallen
Stressed out of their minds
It’s the punters and the racing
Press that tragically now finds

Reasons why it’s happened
Blame the angels who
Live in the humility
It is a humbling view
But really not of weakness
It’s compassion and it’s sure
And an ethic to adore
The audacity tge blatancy
I do folks I abhor

It’s brashness it’s presumption
It’s a domineering act
Defiance no reliance
It’s flippant to exact
Such a slavish principle
Upon those who would say
We have to stop them dying
Out of friendship every day.