| 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, maybe 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 herewith.
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.
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