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To the person who let them go wild to fend for themselves and breed, thanks a bunch.

 

They have finished off my neighbour's vegetable garden (ate all the tatties) and are now circling mine with a greedy look.

 

Anyone want to shoot them? feel free to pm me.

 

They shouldn't be here. This is very wrong and irresponsible. I wonder what other damage they will be doing to the indigenous Shetland wildlife.

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it gets worse

 

Me husband is a keeper,

He's a very busy man,

I try to understand him

And I help him all I can,

 

But sometimes of an evening

I feel a trifle dim,

All alone and plucking pheasants

When I'd rather pluck with him.

 

I'm not the pheasant plucker,

I'm the pheasant plucker's mate

And I'm only plucking pheasants

Cos the pheasant plucker's late.

 

I'm not good at plucking pheasants,

Pheasant plucking I get stuck,

Though some peasants find it pleasant

I'd much rather pluck a duck,

 

Oh, but plucking geese is gorgeous,

I can pluck a goose with ease

But plucking pheasants is sheer torture,

For they haven't any grease.

 

I'm not the pheasant plucker,

He has gone out on the tiles,

He only plucked one pheasant

And I'm sitting here with piles.

 

You have to pluck them fresh,

If they're fresh it's not unpleasant,

I knew a man in Dunstable,

Could pluck a frozen pheasant.

 

They say the village constable

Has pheasant plucking sessions

With the vicar of a Sunday

Twixt the first and second lessons.

 

I'm not the pheasant plucker,

I'm the pheasant plucker's son,

And I'm only plucking pheasants

Till the pheasant plucker's come.

 

My good friend Godfrey's most adept,

He's really got the knack,

He likes to have a pheasant plucked

Before he hits the sack.

 

I try and lend a helping hand,

I gather up the feathers,

It's really all this pheasant plucking

Keeps us pair together!

 

I'm not the pheasant plucker,

I'm the pheasant plucker's friend,

And I'm only plucking pheasants

As a means unto an end.

 

Me husband's in the woods all day,

A-banging with his gun,

If he could hear me heartfelt cries,

Then surely he would run,

 

For I've fluff in all me crannies

And there's feathers up me nose,

And I'm itchin' in the kitchin'

From me head down to me toes.

 

I'm not the pheasant plucker,

I'm the pheasant plucker's wife,

And when we pluck together

It's a pheasant plucking life!

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