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, 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 herewi Br> 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.