The Hunter, by Amy L Peterson
Well son of a steer
I got me a deer
my smallest of wishes come true,
`twas easy to get
with which my car, which it hit
oh shittle de dittle de do.
Now my life was at stake
when I slammed on the brakes
`cuz the guy on my tail must so do,
then I heard from behind
a crunch and a grind
got little de diddle de do.
The cops soon arrived
to save my dear hide,
an ambulance driver came, too,
without dropping my drawers
my pain was no more,
they shottle that needle right through.
Next morning there stood
a head on some wood
no prouder a moment I knew,
`twas a ten-point delight
with a bumper and brights,
oh whattle I doodle with you?
The nurse, a real tart,
just stared at my chart,
said, “I cannot believe this reads true,
you’ve broken your back
and it seems that you’ve cracked
your noodle dee doodle dee doo.”
The doctor came in
and said with a grin,
“Ma’m I cannot believe this reads true
but in your twelve weeks to heal
you can eat Bambi meals
and twiddle dee diddle de doo.”
Through it all my boy cried
with his gun at his side
`cuz I’d promised to take him out soon,
for you see yesterday
was Opening Day
oh shittle dee shittle dee doo.