|
Almost every day during the hunting season you see at least one item in the newspapers about somebody who has shot somebody else, under the impression that he was a deer with a red hat perhaps, |
|
A large flesh-colored squirrel. at any rate, it seems to me that this marks an encouraging new trend in the field of blood sports, and deserves a new type of hunting song which i present herewi |
|
Br> |
|
I always will remember, |
|
'twas a year ago november, |
|
I went out to hunt some deer |
|
On a mornin' bright and clear. |
|
I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow, |
|
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow. |
|
I was in no mood to trifle, |
|
I took down my trusty rifle |
|
And went out to stalk my prey. |
|
What a haul i made that day. |
|
I tied them to my fender, and i drove them home somehow, |
|
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow. |
|
The law was very firm, it |
|
Took away my permit, |
|
The worst punishment i ever endured. |
|
It turned out there was a reason, |
|
Cows were out of season, |
|
And one of the hunters wasn't insured. |
|
People ask me how i do it, |
|
And i say, "there's nothin' to it, |
|
You just stand there lookin' cute, |
|
And when something moves, you shoot!" |
|
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now, |
|
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred guernsey cow. |