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For all you marsh rats like myself!


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The hunters of ducks are a crazy breed
A hole in the muck is all they need
A place to hide from flying duck
In eighty acres of smelly muck
The roads are bumpy - in rain we walk
But us dumb duck hunters will never squack
Tho' he slips in mud and wets his butt
He wont complain cause hes a nut
If it were not so, he'd stay with his wife
And give his children a chance in life
Instead of cavorting around, by heck
And becoming a useless swivel-neck
The hike from the truck to the beat up blind
Would make an Elephant sore behind
They wade in slime that would bog a flea
Like a bunch of bums with housewifes knee
They stagger and stumble and sweat and swear
When the flashlight show ther're halfway there
They gasp for breath and their muscles crack
Hope they won't have a heart attack
Then the mud hens cackle, the mallards flare, and the hunters prance the Fred Astire
They fling the decoys from sodden sacks
And ninety percent land on their backs
They stumble back and fall in the hole
With a crick in the back, but joy in the soul
There they wait for dawn, all cramped and grim
Hoping to hel* the ducks come in
Their eyes burn out in the mid-day glare
And duck lice delve in their thinning hair
They hunt for cripples with gallopping tread
And get back to the blind so nearly dead
Their duck calls sound like a weak Bronx cheer
And the ducks get the hel* right out of "here"
I say it's wicked for a man with a brain
To risk his life in fog and rain
To wreck his muscles and dam his soul
Just to squat in the mud of a slimey hole
Whould I ruin my health and risk my life
And get in bad with the little wife
Just to sit in a blind and suffer pain
In snow and wind and sleeting rain
Would I spend my money and waste my time
And listen to lies in the winter time
Would I do these things no sane man should
BROTHER YOUR RIGHT, I WOULD!

------------------
Get wet, get muddy, get birds!

[This message has been edited by BemidjiDUX (edited 05-27-2002).]

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