A sanctuary or so they say

A sanctuary that’s actually
A circus so to say
Carl Busch runs
the outfit
It’s where cruelty
Is way
Over any place of vile captivity
It’s where
wild animals are made to be
Objects of despair

Wildness was their birthright
But in his sanctuary
All it is is a travelling show
Just captivity
A bunch of innocent creatures
Enslaved in this place
A bondage Purgatory
It is a disgrace

Disadvantaged discriminated
Downtrodden souls who be
Subjugated and oppressed
They have no liberty
In fact it’s just a prison
A clink a jug a jail
Shackled trammled bonded
And guaranteed to fail

stuck in trucks for ages
Standing all the day
Very little fresh clean food
Circus is no way
For animals in this day and age
Bull hooks to the fore
Liberation non existent
A Dungeon for the poor

Circus a misnomer
For sanctuary and where
Animals are looked after
And it’s lovely to be there
Exercise and fresh green shoots
and fields and trees and plants
As close as poss to nature
Nothing left to chance.