The hunting of Wild foxes

They openly advertise
Every hunt
Who can join
How to dress
The law is an ass
The cops seldom see
Arrogance rides
With indignity

Packs of dogs run amok
On the rail tracks
On roads
Through private gardens
They break all the codes
Of the countryside order
In churchyards we see
Packs running haywire
With such savagery

Thank god for the League’s
Silent heroes who sit
Who use all their patience
And calmness
All fit
To observe their quiet nerve
Hearts a beating a way
As the wild foxes run
And the trees gently sway

There is evil intent
Such expletives we hear
The sabs surely run
It’s abundantly clear
They are warrior class
Fighting like mad
To protect to eject
The terribly bad

Frightening armies
Of often fat arses
Some hung up on port
The clinking of glasses
Too many pork pies
A hatred for the wild
Breaking the law
Nature defiled