Eyes like an archery target, surveying the landed estate
Fed, and fed up with the surfeit of corn
Which adds so much girth to my weight
Free-range and out strolling
Quite safe on the ground,
Free will to fly high in the sky
Those colours I fly with – I’m flagging just now
Are a poke for the hen friends who come flushing by!
It’s not yet October, there isn’t a sound
Not a squeak from the shot whistling by
I am bred to be strong as I’m chirping along
It’s nobody’s place to start badgering ‘why’!
What’s wrong with a harvest? Why not have some fun?
Don’t forget, you are animals too!
The sporting response to the man with the gun
Is, quite naturally, you can shoot two!