Owls hoot, Foxes bark,
Badgers frolicking in the dark.
The gamekeeper walks the estate grounds,
while the poacher hides, not making a sound.
Traps and snares are cleared away,
the game can live to fight another day.
Caught in these they die a slow death,
In pain and bleeding till they draw their last breath.
Shotgun cocked and ready to scare,
our gamekeepers foot gets caught in a snare.
He trips and falls, while both barrels let go,
laying in agony as his blood starts to flow.
The startled poacher leaps up and takes flight,
two barrels blasting has given him a fright.
Running scared through this ancient copse,
realises he isn’t being followed, and suddenly stops.
All he can hear, are the gamekeepers cries,
shouting for help, in agony he lies.
He makes his way back and in all good faith,
comforts the gamekeeper, and administers first aid.
Applying pressure to the wound, he stems the flow,
and keeps him talking, till the medics show.
As the day starts to break, the ambulance arrives,
The doctor straps him up, he’s ok, and will survive.
Police question the poacher, regarding the eventful night,
‘I heard both barrels go, then ran with all my might’
So why did you return, to which the poacher did reply,
‘how could I leave him lying there, that gamekeeper brother of mine’.
An event that can happen in any rural community