Tag Archives: Hunting

Buck Shot, But Not Well

Sometimes when it’s peaceful

In the evening by the stream

I like to lie beside the bank

And oh-so-gently dream

That as the humans hunt the deer

The deer hunt us the same,

But humans never notice this

‘Cause deer have lousy aim.

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Southern Love

Somewhere there’s a purple bear

Who cries itself to sleep.

The cubs call him “The purple one

“Who, when he’s sleepy, weeps.”

I want to find that purple bear

Upon one lonely night

And give him stuffed Teddy Roosevelt

And say, “It’ll be alright.”

The purple bear will thank me

As he dries his tears away

And hug the small plush human

And know that he’s okay.

I want to pat that little bear

Upon his purple head,

But I’m also scared he’ll maul me

So I’m hunting him instead.

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Another Once-Great Species Ruined

There once was an African lion

Who was handsome and noble and clever.

He wanted his head to be put on a wall

So he could be admired forever.

Alas, some American vegans

Made a law that to hunt him was banned

So know he stays home in the evenings

And watches MGM films on demand.

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Hunting, To Some

A little bird called me cheap

So I murdered it,

Not because it called me cheap

But because I’m an asshole.

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Tundra Safari

As I was walking on the tundra
I came upon a moose.
I wanted to shoot it with my gundra
‘Til I saw it was wearing shoes.

So as it turned, a log I hid undera,
Hoping to avoid its mighty gaze.
Its footsteps were as loud as thundera,
But it didn’t see me through the haze.

I hid until the setting sundra
Passed behind the frozen ground.
I went home quickly. I was donedra,
And I hoped the shoe moose wasn’t around.

I remember that trip and all the fundra
I had on that permafrost.
And one day, back I’m sure to rundra
To bag the moose I lost.

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