“The Hunters”
The Washington Post, Washington, D.C., November 11, 1910
A hunter popped a partridge on a hill;
It made a great to-do, and then was
still.
It seems (when later on his bag he
spied)
It was the guide.
One shot a squirrel in a nearby wood—
A pretty shot, offhand, from where he
stood.
(It wore, they said, a shooting hat of
brown,
And lived in town.)
And one dispatched a rabbit for his haul
That later proved to measure 6 feet
tall!
And, lest you think I'm handing you a
myth—
Its name was Smith.
Another Nimrod slew the champion fox.
He glimpsed him lurking in among the
rocks.
One rapid shot! It never spoke nor
moved,
The inquest proved.
A "cautious" man espied a gleam of
brown;
Was it a deer—or Jones, a friend from
town?
But while he pondered by the river's rim
Jones potted him.