The Sport of Death.

"Their bodies were scattered," the paper said.
Lean, long-legged Greyhounds,
A bullet through each head.

72 Greyhounds were found there that way
In a garbage-strewn lemon field
On a still winter day.

The dogs were so young--most two or three
What crime did they do
To deserve this cruelty?

The judge was their trainer--the crime was, "Too slow"
The verdict was "Guilty,"
To the death field they'd go.

These young trusting dogs were led there that day
By the trainer they'd worked for-
Their trust he'd betray.

Each Greyhound was shot as their sentence that day
For what humans call "sport,"
What a price these dogs pay!

By Julie Schenk.

The sport of death

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