The Hunting Song

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