A Long Way After Southey

It was a winter's morning,
The Kaiser's sport was done;
From far and near the driven deer
Had faced the Royal " gun, "
And all around, in grim array,
Five hundred rotting corpses lay.

From near and far, to King and Tsar
The startled herds had fled;
And many a stag had swelled the bag,
And many a hind lay dead.
Such things must be and will in short,
After a famous hour of sport!

It was the German Emperor
Who slew five hundred deer;
But what he killed so many for
Is not completely clear.
But all the journalists report
That 'twas a famous morning's sport.

From left and right, in furious flight,
The stags to slaughter came;
Each beast, deceased, by death increased
This holocaust of game.
And, after all (you may retort),
It was a famous morning's sport.

Let sportsmen raise their hymns of praise
To those who made such bags,
Who in an hour evinced the pow'r
To slay five hundred stags,
While I repeat (how dare you snort?)
That 'twas a famous morning's sport!