Rich Akin

T’was the last night of deer season, up on our camp road

With hunting now over, we had all gotten the load

Smoke trickled out of the Little Green Camp

No lights were burning, not even one little lamp

The empty Busch Lite cans, that Rich had so neatly stacked

Glimmered in the moonlight, as the wood stove cracked

There were empty bottles on the table, that were full last week

Jim Beam, Jack Daniel’s, Maker’s Mark and Knob Creek

A few empty shot glasses were still standing up

Near an empty Coke can and Gary ’s personal tin cup

Antlers were displayed on nearly every wall

With more room reserved for a few new sets next fall

Out on the game pole, hung a nice buck with a rack

Who was too damn careless, of where he had left his track

With daylight running out, on a perfect overcast day

One of the boy’s season had ended in a big way

We all gathered round and hoisted are glasses

And for the final night the season, got drunk off our asses!

Return To Home Page