It seems to me Felive the fifth
All those years ago
Had more sense than the present lot
About the great Bull Show
Killing torturing Bulls
The aristocratic way
Of belittling the class of men
Who look the other way
They trace this vile emotion
Back to ancient realms
When a certain King AlFonso V111
Overwhelms
all that went before him
And now the present king
Is an avid an admirer
Who really likes to bring
His spectacular emotions
Into the BULL Ring
He likes to see the matadors
And the BULLS that bring
To some sort of Constancy
For Its Spain that rules the waves
Torturing so grotesquely
Who he sees as The braves
Really resigned to murder
To debauchery to pain
His wavering allegiance
To the Country that has PAIN
In its very title the agony of soul
Evil and reluctant to ever break control
Bull fighting is an ancient pastime
And when it is applied
Its evil strikes into the heart
As each poor soul died
For me I see how dark
They are
How evil to the core
Leave the fucking EU
Your laughter and your gore
torturing the animals
Sucking up to blood
The lot of you in real terms
Should be lost in some flood
For where are your emotions
As a King and all you ought
To come into the modern world
Not harp on about such sport
Of murdering the innocent
Of vile improbity
Of perfidious devotion
To such dank activity.