Beavers made into coats

The tastelessness
The vulgarity
The obscenity of it all
The need to want a fur coat
And a wild soul then to call
On to provide its skin and hair
That creation gave it
So
hags can walk about believing
Their beauty will be on show

Its unrefined and inelegant
Unladylike for sure
Its cheap and coarse and uncultured
It gets right to ones core
A coat of many animals
Slaughtered in their prime
Stolen from their families
Left grieving For a time
A reason for not doing
Such an evil thing
The trip these hags are on
The evil that they bring

Its irreverence a refusal
To feel and understand
The moral insensitivity
Thats felt across the land
The ingloriousness
The unaspiring nature
Of what they wear
To lose their reputation
Needing someoneelses hair

And skin,
and life and caring
In this case what we see
Is a hag full flushed in Beaver
Thinking she is nobility
More the great unwashed
What I call the hoi polloi
Lower than the dirt beneath our feet
And all the joy

Has literally drained and is sodden
Unennobled in a way
Really as low as could ever be
Beavers let me say
Create their realm
Their watery haven
A paradise of soughts
Giving benefit to many
With the most encouraging thoughts

Still water is created
An oasis expertise
And sharing with so many
Their handiwork doth please
The bird life the mammals
The fish the insects too
The beaver creates wetlands
That is what they do

To trap them with such horror
Such evil and such pain
To split up the precious family
With everything to gain
Just because some rotten hag
Wants a coat to wear
Made of 50 bodies
That were stolen
With despair

Beavers are sensational
In everything they do
To be trapped and die their screaming
And that it all is down to YOU
A bloody hag repeats the scourge
At least 50 times
So she can have her Beaver Coat
But not answer to her crimes

The environment will suffer
Greatly for their loss
We know the hag walks down the street
And doesnt give a toss
Who wouldnt be seen in a watery place
A haven for wildlife she
Struts her stuff with huff and puff
Down some boulevard she be

And Perhaps an e cigarette
And alligator shoes
Ofcourse the designer handbag
And the tell tale wheeze
Her lungs and other organs
Knackered probably
From the foie gras and the caviar
That these hags have for their tea