Liberty & Livelihood

I dreamed and lo this is my dream
The cranks had had their way:
Foxhunting was forbid by law
For ever and a day.

No more across the English grass
Will eager sportsmen ride;
No more the scarlet coats be seen
At winter coverside.

But what of Master Reynard whom
This law was passed to save
From death that so befits him
As a brigand, wild and brave?

Alas! I saw quite clearly what
Must now become his fate,
With none to stand between him and
The chicken farmers' hate:

The shot at dusk, the shot at dawn,
The snatched, uncertain aim;
The wounds that only slowly kill,
The wounds that only maim,

The bitter gripe of poison and
The burning, rending pain;
The broken teeth and bleeding jaws
That bite the trap in vain.

The rolly cubs on summer dawns
That scrapped and played a game
Are dying now by inches, for
Their dam comes not again:

She's lying at a dyke back with
A gin upon her pad -
A broken, bleeding sacrifice
To sentiment run mad.