THE SPORTSMANíS SHAME
In this great land of Australia
I have often heard sportsmen boast,
Of how many game they have shot in a day
And then theyíll drink up a toast.
ďHereís to good shooting theyíll say,
And may the game run in numbers untold,Ē
But if sportsmen indiscriminately shoot,
You know what the future will hold.
But I know there are still a few sportsmen
Who only shoot what they must,
These are not the ones that Iím knocking
But those who kill only for lust.
Itís been said, and I know itís been often,
When a roo has been wounded and fled,
ďDon't worry Jack, they'll be plenty more,
And tomorrow itíll probably be dead.Ē
But have you ever thought of a roo lying there
In agony till itís very last breath,
Itís left there alone, to bleed and to groan,
Untill at last it is claimed by death.
Have you ever thought of a little grey quail
When she rises from her brood in alarm,
Then a burst of hot lead, and that little birds dead,
And you know, sheís never done us any harm.
Or have you ever thought of a wounded duck,
All riddled with pellets in vain,
Hiding away in an acre of reeds
Until at last death eases the pain.
Or have you ever thought of the elusive snipe
That flies in from a land over the sea,
After a flight of some five thousand mile,
Itís a symbol of all that is free.
Then some great sportsman with a licence to kill
Spells death with a blast from his gun,
Sure heís a great shot and a sportsman too,
But can he be proud of what he has done?
If this verse should save just one single roo,
A duck, or some little bird,
For remember theyíve a mate and a family too,
Then Iím glad my poemís been heard.
Lindsay P Wilson
I am going into respite accomadation for three weeks on Wendsday, so hope to read your poems again when I come home again.