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"Stock" Tip of the Millenia
The American Bloodsport
Animal Rights
The Apple Tree and the Oak Tree
Battery Hens
Bereaved Knife
Cattle Country
Companion Animal
Dancing Bears of India
Death By Night
Dogs Go To Heaven
The Earth So Slender
Farmer Boy
Fight We Shall
For The Animals
For the animals.....
The Fox
Fox Sick
Gold Fish at a Frat Party
The Greatest Gift
Harp Seal Eyes
How Can We Do It?
How in 2050
The Hunter's Trophy Bawl
I Saw a Possum Die Last Night
Jamaican Cows
Let's Not Forget
Listen to Chief Seattle
Little Red Riding Hood
Look Around
Mad Human Disease
Me Means Alone
A Memoir of My Mother
My God Says
My Story
The New Martyrs
Of Mice and Old Men
Paint Her Divine
Pig Crates
A Place for the Animals
Puppy Love
Quiet as a Mouse
The Racist
Recipe For Servitude In The Circus
Sabine: Five Years Later
The Silent Ark
Thanksgiving Wish
They Must Pay
The Tiger
Tom Turkey
Two Unruly Children
The Veal Calf
Veal, Your Meal
The Voiceless
Welcome to Our World...
Where Have They Gone?
Where Is It?
Where's Her Baby?
You Just Don't Care

The Fox

Tally Ho, Tally Ho, a hunting we will go.
To catch a fox, whatever for? I will never know

They get the hounds together.
The gentry on their mounts.
To hunt a tiny little fox.
There's Princes, Lords and Counts.

They deck themselves in finery.
Top hats, Frock coats and Pinks.
They partake of a stirrup cup.
And many other drinks.

The hounds are ready for the hunt.
They're baying at the door.
The Huntman sounds his hunting horn.
And the hunt begins once more.

The little fox hears the barking hounds.
As he cowers in his den.
He only just got away last time.
But here they come again.

He knows the hounds will find him .
If he stays in his little home.
So over the country he must run.
To save his skin and bone.

His little legs start trembling.
As he starts his run for life.
He must escape those snapping teeth.
That cut just like a knife.

He knows his days are numbered.
As he makes for some hollow logs.
His little heart is beating.
As he hears the baying of the dogs.

It isn't only just the fox.
When sometimes things go wrong.
Some cats and dogs are torn apart.
By the snapping snarling throng.

What sort of people do these things.
They're not fit to be around.
Can't they leave the foxes all alone.
In their happy hunting ground.

Maureen Flynn-Smith (