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Open Poetry #30
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The Hunt...
| Open Poetry #30 |
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The Hunt... |
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Tim Senior Member
since 1999-06-08
Posts 1794 |
It was hunting season once again, Duck hunters were afield, In their blinds at ponds’ edge waiting, To seek of nature's yield. The hunt was fruitful with limits met, So off to town they went, To tell their tales over quaffs of ale, Their hard earned money spent. Now the evil game warden had a plan, To snare a hunter or two, He set a blind outside the bar, In hopes to bag a few. It looked his hunt would be successful, He thought he’d snagged a buck, For out came a hunter a staggering, Got up in his pickup truck. Off drove the hunter; his truck a weaving, The warden moved in for the kill, The truck was stopped and the hunter arrested, He was reeking just like a still. Blow here in this intoxilizer, The warden told his catch, The hunter blew as he was told, It looked he’d met his match. But to the warden’s amaze, the hunter was sober, The machine was straight lined zero, How can this be, it must be broken? As smiled our hunter hero. It seems to me you’ve shot a blank, You’ve done missed this here boy, Some days your hunt just comes up dry, When by mistake you bag a decoy. |
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| © Copyright 2004 Tim - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Charming and presentation. Wonderful wit and offered from a the eyes of a true sportsman. ThisDiamond |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
*Smiling*... They can be tricky creatures, those hunters... |
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