POT-HUNTING BESIDE THE PLATTE
Oh, what fun! Oh, what fun!
With my doggie and my gun
Tramping, tramping, strolling in the sun!
“Quack! squack!” Look there! Look!
Just above yon sluggish meadow-brook.
Six fat mallards up and off in flight.
Willie—Willie Greener! What delight!
Willie, watch me knock them left and right.
Crack—crack—sounds my good “repeater.”
Crack—crack—she may be an old shot-eater,
Crack—crack—did I miss the whole blamed bunch?
Oh, no; just “salted down six” for lunch.
Willie—Willie Greener! Talk about your handsome double gun!
But my beloved “pump,” why she just beats the band for fun.
Colorado laws protect (?) the quails!
But we make it warm for snipes and rails.
“Quack! squack!”—crack—“squack”!
Heavens! did I miss that “jack”?
Doggie—doggie—ain’t it funny
We so seldom now can find a bunny?
“Honk—conk—honk”—pop-pop—pop-pop-pop—pop.
Great Scots! Watch those wild geese drop and flop.
My Muse! My Muse! By George, I think that we had better stop
Before George Shields, of “brittle brush sensation,”
Gets our photos (blushing photos!) painted for his Recreation.