It's another year of Deer Hunters' Camp <br />Where my friend Tom caught fire while igniting his lamp. <br />He screamed, 'Put me out! ' as he ran out of sight. <br />I yelled, 'Stop, drop and Roll... and you'll be alright! ' <br />Then there was Greg, who loved to get drunk. <br />He passed out in his tent, while hugging a skunk. <br />Him stinking so bad, it must have been hell. <br />So, we kept him down wind because of the smell. <br />Now here comes Bill, who brought us a treat. <br />He fed us all jerky that smelled just like feet. <br />We about beat him to death with a bag full of rocks <br />‘Cause, it wasn't deer jerky, it was hard crusty socks. <br />We hunted all week without any luck <br />Then what came into camp was the world's largest buck. <br />We looked at each other, beaten and tired <br />Then pointed our guns, but nobody fired. <br />We seemed to go through this year after year <br />And I'm never amazed why we haven't got deer. <br />When we all get together, the deer is the champ <br />But, there's always next year at Deer Hunters' Camp.<br /><br />Roger Horsch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/deer-hunters-camp/
