Mile after mile
\nWe encroach into Hell
\nBuilding on green belt
\nAnd fracking as well
\nMediocrity coming
\nSuburbia too
\nWhere there were forests
\nNow what to do<\/p>\n
If you are a wild soul
\nWith hunters about
\nAnd folk building houses
\nAnd of course they flout
\nYour whereabouts
\nYou have no where to go
\nAnd hunt it’s more dangerous
\nAs well you know<\/p>\n
And if your a fox
\nWhere you will be
\nIs around their gardens
\nLooking to see
\nWhether, they have chickens
\nOr if there’s a hunt
\nAnd whether it’s worth
\nTo have you a punt<\/p>\n
You’ll be out there early
\nAnd late at night
\nChecking their bin bags
\nSeeing what’s right
\nAll sorts of human stuff
\nThat’s what you do
\nA fox in suburbia
\nYea good and true<\/p>\n
Or raiding the chickens
\nOr a nearby farm
\nTaking the eggs
\nThat’s where there’s harm
\nClose to the humans
\nThat’s when you can
\nGet a bit close
\nTo the old farmer man<\/p>\n
A fox is a chancer
\nHe is wily as well
\nGets through a hole in the fence
\nFor a spell
\nGo after anything
\nThat is around
\nDucks and koi carp
\nJust anything found<\/p>\n
People with small holdings
\nDo tend to feel peeved at the fox
\nFor he’s the real deal
\nHe will take out their chickens
\nTheir ducklings may be
\nAnd steal their eggs
\nVery, blatantly<\/p>\n
Then there’s the hunters
\nAnd the terrier men
\nAll after foxy
\nWho lives in his den
\nAnd if just at the foot of a garden then he
\nWill have to take heed
\nOr he will likely be<\/p>\n
Eaten alive by the dogs
\nThat’s for sure
\nSo a fox has to watch out
\nIt’s like all out war
\nEverything likes fox
\nAnd everyone tries
\nTo get at his arse
\nAll of the guys<\/p>\n
Mile after mile we encroach
\nInto hell
\nBuilding on green belt
\nAnd fracking as well<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Mile after mile We encroach into Hell Building on green belt And fracking as well Mediocrity coming Suburbia too Where there were forests Now what to do If you are a wild soul With hunters about And folk building houses … Continue reading