You crazily run, like a roadrunner, so run pheasant, run!
Run! For there's more than one of them, carrying a gun
They'll look up to the sky, for you, then fill you with lead
And before you hit the ground, you will already be dead
They reared you and fledged you, for your early demise
Nurturing you for awhile, as a demand, needs supplies
For their punters are capped killers, in search of a thrill
But lacking lead in their pencils, they are needing to kill
Run pheasant, run! Because you'll be in a flap, if you fly
For if you are low over their guns, you will inevitably die
So keep your beak shut and hide in a field, full of sheep
And there, where you're safe, it'll be your secret to keep
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