Canned hunted Lion

A despicable conclusion to a cowardly
Way of life
Or should I say existence
In our world of utter strife
The canned hunters low on thoughtfulness
Their ego’s blazing high
Have gone and killed an innocent
With real fire in its eye

Paid their lousy pittance
Their ill gotten gains across
Accessing true violence
They didn’t give a toss
For a Lion with natural spirit
With a woeful turn of heel
They gunned the animal earthling down
And didn’t even feel

Anything the heartless brutes
The vile and ugly knaves
Ruffians of roguery
That can only fail
Slobs who sit their smiling
With the Lion propped up and dead
And leafy necklace around its throat
As I gaze at its sad head

This is their so called trophy
This is their desire
Disrespectful bastards
With their gloating dark attire
Ill wishing cussed and spiteful
A malignant bunch of ill
Lets curse the ground they sit upon
For we have had our fill

Of their threatening behaviour
Their ominous display
Their sabre rattling bluster
Their conscience shot away
Hooligans of horror
Vandals of the night
Recidivists whose recklessness
Have withdrawn this earthlings light

Sent its soul to the summer bridge
Its mouth propped open so
We all can see its canines
In the night they almost glow
A ring of leaves placed sadistically
Around the dead lions throat
I commiserate with its spirit
The unbeholden note

It took all of those evil men’s
Wild justice to proclaim
They were the avengers
He perished in a flame
Of ugliness and envy
For a wild soul who once felt
A freedom from our shackles
As before their guns he knelt

They paid with dirty money
Stolen from the poor
Exacted from the children
Fed on blood and gore
Vindictive spiteful monsters
Breathing sharing air
With courage and with gratitude
For really being there