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The Tale of the Terrible Hunter

Behold the dreadful hunterman
In all his fateful glory stand!
He took his game-bag, powder, gun,
And fiercely to the fields he spun.*

Brer Rabbit spied him, smug and trim,
And made the grossest fun of him.

Full soon the sweat began to run,
And mortal heavy grew his gun;
He sought the sod, that green old boy,
(Which filled the spy with evil joy);
And as he dreamed and snored and slept,
The furry rascal to him crept,
And stole his gun and smooched his specs,
And hied him hence with these effects.

*Baby, you must take notice of this
awkward form of speech and never use it, except in translating.

M. T.

The specs he set across his nose,
And as his joke upon him grows
He thinks it would be darling fun
To see that hunter skip and run
In front of his own stolen gun.
He drew a bead, the hunter fled,
And fled! and fled! and fled! and FLED!

And howled for help as on he sped,
Howled as if to raise the dead;
O'er marsh and moor, through glade and dell,
The awful clamor rose and fell,
And in its course where passed this flight
All life lay smitten dead with fright.

At last the hunter Struck a well,
And in he plump'd with final yell,
The very moment that there rang
O'er all the place the loud "cheBANG!"

The hunter's wife, with window up,
Sat sipping coffee from her cup;
The bullet split the saucer clean
And scared her to a pallid green.
Now by the well in hiding lay
The rabbit's child, and saw the fray,
And glanced aloft with aspect gay
(Unwatchful of the coffee spray),
And would have laughed, but changed his mind
When that hot coffee Struck him blind.
He snatched the spoon and capered out
With many a baleful murd'rous shout,
To club to death the clumsy lout
Who'd brought this accident about;
But when he saw it was his pa,
He changed his mind again, aha!

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