Granted. But please to prove that shooting’s pleasant
When looked at from the aspect of the pheasant.
They all insist that death attends the shot,
(Some think precedes a trifle and some not);
And then they cry, in ecstasies of virtue,
“Poor things! we kill you, but we never hurt you.”
Who was it made the theory so astutely
That pigeons cannot feel at all acutely?
Well, of a want of feeling when he spoke, we
Might well return him a direct tu quoque.