I’ve become a killer, I take my gun to the hills
I shoot rabbit and pheasant and at times, just the hill.
The hills don’t scream, they absorb the shock,
but they know I was there, they felt the knock.
I started with a rifle that fired both left and right,
It missed more often than my sweet talk at night.
Not likely to hit, more likely to fail.
Only slightly more accurate than the Daily Mail*.
But I’ve progressed since those early days,
learned about the wild life and their wily ways.
I’m proficient now. I’ve slaughtered hundreds, both rats and mice.
I’ve poisoned many thousands, slugs, larvae and lice.
And I’ve smiled, as I swaggered on by, confident and knowing,
that we, the master race are the top dogs and ever growing.
So with my guns, my traps, and my poison, I will impose my will,
on the woods, the meadows, the moors and eventually the hill.
*Daily Mail a right wing British newspaper