How to Make a Killing

I have a dream and this is what it is

A dream that all those white and lovely hunters,

Full of the joy of life and bounce and fizz

Flying into South Africa’s raw lands, these punters,

Armed to the teeth with guns and aftershave

Hoping to bag a leopard or a lion

To you, you gutsy guys and gals I say:

 

One day, this is my dream I can’t deny it,

I’d like you to feel the thrill of a hunt

A thrill so deep, it claws into your very pit

Into your very bowels, oh, how you’ll grunt

You’ll howl, you’ll moan, you’ll cry with joyful tears,

In ecstasy your bladder weeps its piss,

This is a hunt that’s different, awake and hear.

 

Ok, this is my song for all good men to sing

And fat-arsed women too who love to kill as well,

From sweet old Yankee towns where gun is king

Where on weekends, you drag home ripped -off pelts

Or broken stags roped to your blood-smeared bonnet.

Not like felling a massive elephant no way,

When your great fat rifle spews a mighty rocket.

 

Oh watch it crash down shaking the bloody earth

Heaving, spurting sheets of bloody rain

Wondering in its dumbo brain, what hurts?

What is this searing racking filthy pain?

But now the light is fading fast oh yes,

Before the veil descends it sees his killer

Smiling for the camera, one foot on its neck.

 

But I have a dream to make your hunt real feisty,

Not stick your rifle on a tripod, wait

Whilst beaters coax your leopard out real nicely

Then blow its brains from out its spotted pate

How handsome you look, blood-splattered, gun in hand

Like you’re a hero which of course you are,

Show your kids the pics, oh what a man!

 

Some say – The leopard’s worth twenty of you

Some say you’re just a heap of shit upon this earth

Standing there in all your bold effrontery

Whilst that rare beauteous wonder bites the dirt

Some say, what a scumbag coward you are, man,

You filthy stiff-backed wretch, a white disease,

Ignore those views and hear my wondrous plan.

 

I’d like you to feel the deep thrill of the hunt

When your blood will turn to ice, your shit to sludge

The lions odour makes you want to faint

But even up the chances, be the judge

What guts d’ya need to fire off a round?

You’ve got balls the size of raisins you mug

Here’s something that will make your weak heart pound.

 

Get out there in the bush just one to one,

Take a spear, a club, a knife, be brave

Don’t hide behind your stinking coward’s gun,

Give the beast a fighting chance you knave!

Oh then you’ll feel the sweet power of the hunt

Once the stalker now you’re being stalked

Oh that’s a thrill you’ll never ever find.

 

Sitting behind your fat steel stainless cock.

Even up the chances, feel the heat

Alright, it may just beat you , maybe lock

Your head between its piercing crunching teeth

Strip off your yellow flesh with its razor claws

Or crush your skull until your eyeballs pop

But then they’ll say ‘Oh God that man had balls!’

 

So here’s my simple dream for you brave men

It doesn’t really mean I hate your guts

Just even up the odds, like in a gang

You fight against the same number of thugs

How can you shoot that beautiful giraffe

Just ‘cause it’s big, exotic and so tame

Oh how this great beast crumbled for your game…

 

The loathsome beast whose name is man

sits posing by the corpse of this great thing

This majestical creature, which surveyed the land

From it’s high towered head, but couldn’t see

The stinking gun-armed man who squints and aims

It’s legs lost their connection to its brain

What God had put together this man unmade!

 

A funny thing this spawn of Satan wears

The symbol of Christ’s pain upon the cross

Whilst decimating all that we hold dear

And yet so proud of this, our bitter loss

He needs to smear the creature’s precious blood

It’s gore upon his stupid brutish face

But still his face is just as ugly as it was.

No matter how much blood this human sheds

And women too, although it’s sad to say

That they can be as stupid as some men

No matter how much blood’s upon your face

It will not cure your pestilential plague

That spreads its canker on the human race!

 

© Steven Berkoff 2011