Almost every day during the hunting season
You see at least one item in the newspapers about somebody who has shot somebody else
Under the impression that he was a deer with a red hat perhaps
Maybe a large flesh-colored squirrel

At any rate, it seems to me that this marks an encouraging new trend in the field of blood sports
And deserves a new type of hunting song which I present herewith

I always will remember
'Twas a year ago November
I went out to hunt some deer
On a mornin' bright and clear
I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow

I was in no mood to trifle
I took down my trusty rifle
And went out to stalk my prey
What a haul I made that day
I tied them to my fender, and I drove them home somehow
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow

The law was very firm, it
Took away my permit
The worst punishment I ever endured
It turned out there was a reason
Cows were out of season
And one of the hunters wasn't insured

People ask me how I do it
And I say: There's nothin' to it
You just stand there lookin' cute
And when something moves, you shoot
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred Guernsey cow