A Hunting We Will Go
(His last written poem)

It's that time in the year,
That the hunters holds so dear.

Getting things in shape is a job,
Cleaning guns, getting ready to beat the mob.

Don't forget your red jacket and cap
Also a roughly drawn map.

There are thousands of elk and deer,
Also many grizzly bear.

So you must use your every good reason,
Because some animals are out of season.

If you see something red,
And shoot too soon you might find someone dead.

So when you go hunting, Mack,
Use your head for something other than a hat rack.

Don't be like me, I saw a black and white animal, my it was pretty
I went right over to pick it up but it wasn't that kind of a kitty.

*****

Strange that the last poem Dad would write was about hunting, something that, as far as I know, Dad had never done. As far as I know, he had no opinions on guns and never kept one at his place of business.

I don't believe that this poem was ever submitted. Dad was still writing but seldom talking at this time. Tomorrow I'll post the last poem I have of his on the blog.

Thanks to those of you who have been hanging in. It's been a big project.