Land of the free, nice to sing this song sincerely rather than jokingly, which may soon be. For mans best friend, most capable to defend bloodlines may be at an end.
For ignorant politicians, wannabe dictators in their positions, plot, destroying dogs like a Rot.
All should rightfully have a fit, when one is attacked by a pit.
But dog fighters don’t give a shit if you illegalize their canines, which they criminalize. For they shall still fight underground, where ignorant politicians aren’t around.
Just like if you illegalize the handgun, thieves would laugh having even more fun.
The respectable, responsible shall suffer, in seeing the seed of their favorite breed which has protected thousands in time of need for so long be gone.
The American Bull, to illegalize should be unthinkable, brought by the early settlers, they gave their lives protecting against meddlers.
The Mastiff, been around for thousands of years, to stiff this breed would influence millions of tears.
Let us think of a solution, in line with our constitution.
Perhaps harsher leash laws, especially on dogs with powerful jaws, and more hard time for dog fighters who commit this hideous crime.
Maybe a good citizens test, let the human aggressive be put to rest.
Land of the free, politicians in high positions should uphold this sincerely.
For if put to an end, mans powerful protecting best friend.
You will have lied if you say you honor the ones who died!
Let this truly be, land of the free and continue singing this song with dignity!

 

In The Wee houre, Thou Layeste a’sleape Uponne Thy Floore.
Soone a’wakenned Bye a Loude Uproare,
To The Sounde Of howlynge Thou Canst Not Ignorre.
Leeping to Thy Feete, Thou dost Go Toward’s Thy Doore.
Outside Tis Slyte, a’Mistedde Nyghte,
But Wythe Ayde fromme Lunarr Lyghte,
Who Doth Shyne e’er so Bryghte,
Thou Canst see Everrie Thyng In Syghte.
At Fyrste, Thou Dost Not Beeleeve What eyes Conceeve.
Fore Out of The Fogge, a’peeres a Ghoste seem’d Dogge,
Followe’d bye His Packe, Soone They Engayge Ande Attacke,
A Large Bulle, that Shalle Mayke Them Fulle.
Thyne Towne’s biggeste Fears Reappeer,
The Hounds of Hell Relees’d From Theyr cell.
Cravynge Bloode that Is Freshe, They rippe at The Fleshe.
But Woe, Deathe commes Firste, Packe Leaderre’s Friende Dealte
Worste. Throughe His eyes, He doth witnesse Frieyndes Demyse.
Scorn’d fromme the horne, As Fleshe Was Torne.
Leaderres’ Will, Longynge To Kille.
Wythe a Tenayciousse Gryppe,
He Goes for Foes noes, UntylleTis ripp’d, And All Bloode Flowes.
Leaderre of Packe hath Reyveynge Backe,
Fore Deathe of They Frende, As Bulles’ Lyfe commeth to An Ende.
That Nyghte I look’d Throughe a Walle.
Wytnes’d Dogs Smalle ande Talle, Admyrynge alle.
Especiallie the One Who Coulde run, Seconde To None,
Destroying a Bulle overre a tonne.
Fore It Was Bye He, That Inspyr’d Me to Creayte, Bye Fayte,
Moste Legendayrie Sporte, Bulle Bayte.

 

Soon you won't feel too well.

In fact you'll holler and yell with pain so insane

due to blood gushing out of your membrain.

For when my mouth is full I shall crush your skull.