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decreaseI like to hunt – not with a spear –
I use a different weapon here,
On this different battle front,
And thrust it, not in prey, but c**t;
Bring home not deer, but a dear.
I sit in gogos drinking beer,
Not outside on the wild frontier,
But don’t misunderstand my brunt:
I like to hunt.
And that is my problem, I fear,
Because, although it may appear
That when I pull a lucky stunt,
I’ve won. It’s not true – I’ll be blunt.
The urge will never disappear –
I like to hunt.
© Rob, 2007. All rights reserved by the author.
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