Yet they overrun the country like an army of ghouls, and the country does not want them.

They are out of place.

As they drag their squat, misshapen bodies along the highways and byways, they resemble some vile spawn from underground.

Their very presence, the fact of their existence, is an outrage to the fresh, bright sun and the green and growing things.

The clean, upstanding trees cry shame upon them and their withered crookedness, and their rottenness is a slimy desecration of the sweetness and purity of nature.
Is the picture overdrawn?
It all depends.