TWO PAIRS OF EYES

Seen through eyes, well hidden, not seen,
That silently watch and wait,
The story they’re chasing begins to unfold,
As the hounds reach the garden gate.

Like lambs to the slaughter, these innocents so trusting,
Move forward whilst sniffing the air,
Their owners partaking in the drama unfolding,
Don’t know that those eyes are still there.

The man with the gun, a hard bastard for sure,
Moves off with two Greyhounds and pockets a score,
Whilst those who so callously decreed these hounds’ fate,
Move away from the crime scene, as eyes watch and wait.

Those unwilling eyes watch, disbelieving,
Heavy- hearted they know what will come,
Well informed, so they’ve heard all about him,
This man and his treasured bolt gun.

They savour this vision, these hounds lithely moving,
So willing to enter that shed,
Now ears hear the gunshots, one for each Greyhound,
Ears tell the eyes they are dead.

So sad now those same eyes scan the horizon,
In order to view the last act,
What was hearsay and gossip, an industry secret,
Now recorded forever as fact.

Rent a Flyer, Clash Nitro, two innocents now named,
Executioner and cohorts, identified now shamed,
Their arrogance and callousness has made them despised,
All thanks to these Greyhounds and two pairs of eyes.

This poem is written as a tribute to Rent a Flyer and Clash Nitro, those two lovely Greyhounds whose callous slaughter featured in The Sunday Times ( 16th July 2006) and exposed the executioner of 10,000 plus Greyhounds for all to see. It is also a thank you to the reporters who followed this story through to its sad conclusion in order to expose the truth.