As the glorious twelfth approaches and the moors are filled with toffs <br />They're letting off to see who's the best shot <br />Little birds hiding the best they can, awake to the clamour <br />Dogs, beaters and shouts to scare <br />Little knowing of the guns waiting there <br />Gentlemen aim for the sky with their hearts a flutter <br />With the occasional miss "blast " is what they utter. <br />The moors at this time is barred to common folk <br />Except as bearers of shotguns which are all bespoke <br />As they loosen their breaches and continue to stuff <br />They'll decide of which bag to be displayed <br /> Lifelike..perpetually stuffed.<br /><br />brian roy skyers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-glorious-twelfth/
