Twas the night before opener,

and all through the shack.

The boys were all drinking,

imagine that!

The guns were all oiled

with affection and care,

In hopes that old Scarface

soon would be there.

When the guys were all nestled

all snug in their beds,

visions of bucks

were displayed in their heads.

Me in the camper

and the boys in the shack,

had just settled down

for a short Winters nap.

When out on the porch

there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the camper

to see what's the matter.

It was only Rudolph

showing up late,

as he's married with children

and this is his fate!

Opening morning produced us no prey.

It was time for our breakfast,

it was almost mid-day.

The Egg McPauls were ready,

Kujo called us by name.

Now, Rudolph! now Groaner!

now Hurley! and Curly!

On Demo! on Lars!,

but one came in early!

"Where is that Shitbird",

we could hear Kujo grouse,

we finally did find him,

he was in the outhouse!

After the meal we took to the woods.

If the deer were still prancing,

that would be good.

At one P.M. the shots rang out.

I was sure it was Curly,

of this there's no doubt.

Curly's eyes - - how they twinkled!

His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses,

his nose like a cherry!

The young man had taken

a nice button buck.

His second deer ever,

a stroke of good luck.

On day number two

we were tracking a deer.

It was the same situation

we encountered last year.

The trail we followed

led us down to the lake,

he was heading South,

ripe for the take.

He came up behind me,

and I leveled my gun.

The crosshairs were on him,

the deed would be done.

My faithful old rifle

has just let me down,

it did not expel the .308 round!

The deer slipped away,

not to be taken.

The Deer Gods must hate me,

I've been forsaken!

Soon it will be Christmas,

and such is this theme.

You can count on a carol,

if you know what I mean!

As this poem is written,

and as Christmas songs are sang.

We are counting our blessings,

we don't hunt near Chai Vang!

Our prayers go out to Yukon,

who's dad is not well.

We hope he gets better,

only time will tell.

Now as I hop on my wheeler,

and I ride out of sight.

Merry Christmas to all,

and to all a good night.

By Lars