They Shot the ******
I say they-I don’t know who
Though I have my ideas

The farmer up the creek
Whose pasture he has flooded?
For this his fur is blooded?

Perhaps the hunters saw him
And shot him just for sport
They seem to be that sort

This one is the third
Two more the other day
I loved to watch them play

He floats fully distended
By gas of dead for days
Like some new Hindenberg

I glide by in canoe
Kick him with my shoe
Launch him in the breeze

He floats on down the lake
A Viking burial ship
Dying for our sake