Poetry Pleases: The Westminster Fox
In this poem Philip Sibley, with a glance over his shoulder at Will Shakespeare, focuses on the fox-hunting debate - and brings us the voice of the fox.
To hunt or not to hunt,
That is the question.
Whether its nobler for the prey
To suffer the chase and fangs
Of outnumbering foxhounds?
Or take the option, poison?
Perchance the gun? To bleed, to die.
Alas poor Reynard, I knew him well.
I come not to ban hunting,
But to praise it,
For hunting is an honourable sport.
Et Tu Bruté?
Who with another head, as Bottom,
Not one, nor other,
Can plead the Wildlife cause?
Ay, there’s the rub.
The quality of verity is much strained.
It droppeth not as gentle rain
Upon the place beneath
When dribbled out of politicians’ mouths
Across the floor to make a kill.
It is twice cursed,
Cursing both, the anti and the pro,
For neither speaks for me, the fox.
