To The Foxes
To Mary & Chris Pollard
( and animal lovers everywhere ! )
©
Rod Remnant
1998
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Run the stream, run the course
Run the hills, confront the horse
And men with hearts that match their coat,
Red, red with the blood of a thousand kills they gloat.
If only they their dogs would grip
And tear, the flesh from bodies strip
And leave bare the bones that cage such hate,
If only this could be their fate.
You are friend to Reynard dog,
Like streams that cool, like secret fog
That conceals us from the bloody fools
That treat their horse as killing tools.
Oh that we could find release
From cruelty, in deathly peace,
But still the killers have us run before
Their hounds, Kill ! Kill ! more ! more ! more !
When the last our kind they kill,
Will the butchers have had their fill
And leave the countryside at rest ?
Or, will they claim another pest ?
The badger, deer, the fleet of foot,
Will they claims of nuisance put ?
When each and every one is slain
Where will they then put the blame ?
Today our need is greater as
The killers London-bound they mass
Claiming they're misunderstood
With tongues still drpping from our blood,
What hope have we our case to make
As streams of blood run into lake ?
Only you can stop the flow,
We to you our hopes bestow.
Finish then what you've begun
To the foxes ... God Bless everyone !
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Against this cruel and seemingly lawless " sport "
Thank You
