Scumbag shooters

In the remotest of areas
In the dead of night
Where kangaroo’s graze
All in plain sight
Warm gentle souls
All socially bound
Nursing their offspring
Who comes around?

With their trucks and their guns
The scumbags yes who
Set out to murder
Assassins all through
Its all about money
They cause so much pain
Killing so many females
And breaking the chain

Of life with the joeys
Stomped on or thrown
Into the bush to die there alone
Who has the right to kill infants
En masse
and gain validation
With something so crass

Being able to shoot straight
And butcher wild life
Slaughtering mothers
Causing babies such strife
Our precious wild animals
Who need to be
Where they were put
throughout history

Selling them tags
Validating the threat
What they do is excessive
The Meat Traders set
Using lead bullets
To slaughter and kill
Creating pollution
From the lead swill

And its all down to management
The constant abuse
Barely 13 kilos
Another ruse
And many missed head shots
No monitoring
Unrestrained louts
The threatening wing

Caught in the spotlights
The gentle folk die
Their life force is sacrificed
And I ask why
They at the frontiers
Protecting the land
Placed by the great mother
Who did understand

The great Kangaroo’s
Were here long long ago
Protecting the earth
As they leapt too and fro
They the true natives
enlivened each space
And should have been treated
With respect and good grace

In 2016 1.34 million were killed
Murdered in hot blood
So much blood spilled
In the name of good husbandry
Cattle and sheep
Who all would be killed
Whilst the city folK sleep

Death and destruction
To the wild ones and those
Excuses for slaughtering
Who do suppose
A life on the farms
In the ranches around
Supplying the flesh
Be it chopped up or ground

Butchered way out in the outback
The heat
They are the hatchet men
Nothing is neat
Basically contract killers
Thats all they be
Poleaxing angels
Any they see

E coli strep and staph
They explode
In the heat and the dark
On a dirty bush road
Inadequate cooling
Frighteningly so
An obtuseness and insentient
Nauseous flow

Where is the consciousness
And the insight
Unmonitored louts in the dead of the night
Where is the inner child
I will tell you where
Out in the bush with no one to care
Its mother shot dead
Its Tried to leap
It will die very slowly
As the city folk sleep

The meat eating scoundrels
Wanting variety
Believing in thoughtfulness
Philosophy
The ethics of life
In the outback where still
The ancient ones grazing
Are part of the kill

Shot out of existence
Butchered on the spot
Covered in dust
For there is a lot
Of flies just because
To unmonitored men
In it for money
You tell me when

Any such business
Would be truly fair
Its a cruel nasty trade
And anyone there
Earning their beer money
Killing all night
Gutting and stomping
They really arn’t right

Their minds are too narrow
Unbalanced they be
So tunnel-visioned
And constantly
Wanting more and more
Killed
Twisted and swayed
Easily persuadable
Their stock in trade

The Roo’s feel abandoned
Lost to this world
Out in the wilderness
Where they were hurled
Long before shooters
Millions of years
Before they were thought of
The bringers of tears

Whose non cooperation
And backwardness rules
With iniquitous thought
Who are the fools
Those killing angels
Or scoffing their flesh
Those flogging pristine packs
Guaranteed fresh

In plastic containers
Ready to be
Slung with cadavers
On the barby
Our iconic bush angels
Gentle wee souls
Effusive and eager
To continue their roles

As natives of Australia and Tasmania
And are proud to be totems
Of the true Australians the aboriginies