For the gopher state man
You need a sad song,
To sing the blues.
And they should rhyme,
In ones and twos.
They double line,
For extra beat.
And at the end,
Sometimes repeat.
I`ll give it a shot,
If you will sing it.
And let us all,
Hear you wing it.
Hunting Gophers
I was cleaning gopher holes,
Like I always do.
hover blows `em high enough,
To use the 22.
We use a 22,
A cooey 22.
Until one furry critter,
Landed by my boot.
Part from instinct, part from fear,
You know I had to shoot.
And try to miss my boot,
Just barely missed my boot.
The powder flash was close enough,
To start the styro burning.
Never noticed right away,
But now was quickly learning.
Because my pants are burning,
And my left leg is turning.
The fans are helping all of this,
To burn even higher.
Which lit the extra fuel tank,
An even bigger fire.
It picked up the fire,
A really smoky fire.
When all was done, the fire out,
Should have heard me wail.
Gathered what was left of her,
Home in a five gallon pail.
Not a very big pail,
Just a five gallon pail.
Mike
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