Out in the woods with a dog an' gun <br />Is my idea of a real day's fun. <br />'Tain't the birds that I'm out to kill <br />That furnish me with the finest thrill, <br />'Cause I never worry or fret a lot, <br />Or curse my luck if I miss a shot. <br />There's many a time, an' I don't know why, <br />That I shoot too low or I aim too high, <br />An' all I can see is the distant whirr <br />Of a bird that's gittin' back home to her- <br />Yep, gittin' back home at the end o' day, <br />An' I'm just as glad that he got away. <br /> <br />There's a whole lot more in the woods o' fall <br />Than the birds you bag- if you think at all. <br />There's colors o' gold an' red an' brown <br />As never were known in the busy town; <br />There's room to breathe in the purest air <br />An' something worth looking at everywhere; <br />There's the dog who's leadin' you on an' on <br />To a patch o' cover where birds have gone, <br />An' standin' there, without move or change, <br />Till you give the sign that you've got the range. <br />That's thrill enough for my blood, I say, <br />So why should I care if they get away? <br /> <br />Fact is, there are times that I'd ruther miss <br />Than to bring 'em down, 'cause I feel like this: <br />There's a heap more joy in a living thing <br />Than a breast crushed in or a broken wing, <br />An' I can't feel right, an' I never will, <br />When I look at a bird that I've dared to kill. <br />Oh, I'm jus' plumb happy to tramp about <br />An' follow my dog as he hunts 'em out, <br />Jus' watchin' him point in his silent way <br />Where the Bob Whites are an' the partridge stay; <br />For the joy o' the great outdoors I've had, <br />So why should I care if my aim is bad?<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/with-dog-and-gun/
