Murdering Hares and Rabbits in the UK

Rabbits have their families Several times a year
From four to seven babies
Naked blind and helpless
The mother it is clear
Empowered with love and kindness
The pressure is on her
She has to prepare a place for them
When it does occur

Godly and creative
The pressure is on we know
Looking after the mother and her ofspring
There’s a glow of light
Down in the burrow
And father has to be
Looking after his family
Hunters outside be
After him be sure of that
They want some rabbit pie
Do they care of broken families
Heartless soulless why
They really do not have a clue
Gorgers of dead flesh

Hares though do not burrow
Fastidious though they be
They love to wash and dress their fur
Above ground, naturally
Hares don’t dig like miners
They prefer the open sky
They love the rolling down land
With great long legs which is why

They can run like the clappers
With their smaller family
They face the wrath of hunters
Their lives perilously
Highly strung but bold as well
And as silly as can be
I love the hares they are magical
Wonderful and free

Their eyes are placed so that they
Can look back when they run
Bold as brass and on the ball
They just enjoy the sun
Hunters with dogs are out there
But must leave the Hare
Alone
the wildest creature hereabouts
Certainly those I have known
They can be temperamental in the early Spring
Hence known as completely mad
In March
It’s when they fling
Fear and utter madness
Up into the air
Happy yes as sand boys
Totally aware.