Posted By: THawk_4
'Twas the Night Before Deer Season - 11/02/15 03:56 PM
Bow season has been in progress, and rifle season starts this weekend, so in light of that, here's a little something I wrote back in 2013. Y'all enjoy!
'Twas the Night Before Deer Season
'Twas the night before deer season, and all through the camp
Everything was astir, shootin [censored] by the lamp
The rifles were nestled in their cases with care,
High hopes for the morning, that a buck would be there.
The hunters were eager to be all snug in their beds,
And have visions of whitetail bucks dance into their heads.
With Dad in his shorts, and I in my pants,
We settled our brains for a short eve's nap.
When out of nowhere there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to hit the alarm with a shatter.
Away to my clothes, I flew fast as a steer,
Tore open my duffle bag and threw on all my gear.
The low moon on the breast of the short wheat
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects soon to see
When time would have it, I climbed in my tree
And a miniature nap let my eyes rest free.
Soon I awakened, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, I had heard a breaking stick.
More rapid than eagles his on a gallop he came,
I whistled, and drew back, and let the arrow make fame!
Happy hunting!
'Twas the Night Before Deer Season
'Twas the night before deer season, and all through the camp
Everything was astir, shootin [censored] by the lamp
The rifles were nestled in their cases with care,
High hopes for the morning, that a buck would be there.
The hunters were eager to be all snug in their beds,
And have visions of whitetail bucks dance into their heads.
With Dad in his shorts, and I in my pants,
We settled our brains for a short eve's nap.
When out of nowhere there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to hit the alarm with a shatter.
Away to my clothes, I flew fast as a steer,
Tore open my duffle bag and threw on all my gear.
The low moon on the breast of the short wheat
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects soon to see
When time would have it, I climbed in my tree
And a miniature nap let my eyes rest free.
Soon I awakened, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, I had heard a breaking stick.
More rapid than eagles his on a gallop he came,
I whistled, and drew back, and let the arrow make fame!
Happy hunting!
