Lock, stock and barrels set
Crouched low on a mountain ledge
Target all set in rifle’s cross-hairs, ready to embrace a golden bullet
Fingers twitching, itching and rearing to trigger
No noise now, silent sound is all to be heard here
Quiet! This must be the kill of the century
Lock, stock and barrels set.
Lock, stock and barrels set
Lids twitch at hot sweat dripping down in relentless haste
Tension so electric, must muster utmost concentration
Shoulders ache, brows burn, lips patched and utterly caked
Yet, the target remains the utmost aim
Lock, stock and barrels set.
Lock, stock and barrels set
Will wait without wilting, royally ruinous it is ruining this royal chase
Fingers frigid at the endless wait,
For the battle cry from men in chairs wearing ties
Will wait, patiently in this burning sun
Lock, stock and barrels set.
Lock, stock and two smoking barrels
Rifle’s recoil racing round so sharp
Shock, wonder and utter dismay
As target still stands, then stops and turns this way
Quickly peeps through the cross hairs, only to meet a blinding light
Lock, stock and barrels drop out of sight.
