The Pheasant Hatcher Poem by bilbo reid

A pheasant hatcher sat down in his field surveying all of his domain
He may just look a wee bit blank some say, or is he completely insane For his dogs they have kennels, his pheasants have hutches
Four walls and a roof in which to live with their clutches

But there's a councill department who's heads are just nothing but blank
A pile of scaffold boards would have more sense, yes, their as thick as a plank
They each have a breifcase and a wee badge say's 'department of planners'
But to be honest i think theres more sense in the quick-fit fitters box of spanners

The hatcher rises early to look to his birds, but on this he surely thrives
The planners of course have breakfast at a table and lie in a bed with their wives
For they get their wage a salary no doubt and expenses whenever they're out
There will be some posh grrub and a pint in a pub and then they'll behave like a lout

Whilst the poor pheasant hatcher will work twenty hours and crash out in a cardboard box
Then late at night he will wake in a fright because he's lost half his stock to a fox
While the planning department attend awkward classes, it's their job to make other lives hell
But come the revolution they'll get a great fright when the pheasant hatchers rebel