Larcenists of life

The thieving nicking filching
Carried out by those
Compromising arse oles
The hunters who suppose
They give themselves the right to murder
Our wild souls of the forest
The beautiful red foxes
Their vixens and their cubs
In earthy tunnels in the sod
Insanely Trying to
Safeguard their sweet families
Up against the crude
squirrel men the hunting crowd
The packs of rabid hounds
The land owners the drunken toffs
All doing the rounds

Their Inattention of the law
Violating rights
Going against the people
Turning off the lights
Of foxes hunting looking after their families in the Sod
Wilder than the Winter rains
All without a God
The Saboteurs are out there taking on the might
The richly decked in hunting clobber
Always picking a fight.
Saving many a fox today
Compliant and loyal
They make virtue a necessity
With torture angelic toil.