By: Bears Butt

 

Mountain men afore trapped beaver by the score

And risked their own hides in the slews

For the bounty of the plews.

 

The beaver did what normal came

And chewed the twigs and cane

To feast upon it’s bark,

When all the world was cold and dark.

 

So to you the luck of this here stick

That one such beaver fell

May your camp be well and never sick

And your game pole always full.

 

Bears Butt

2006

Written on May 25th, 2011 , Poems (or sumthin)

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BearsButt.com | Stories, Ramblings & Random Stuff From an Old Mountain Man

Just some of my old stories, new stories, and in general what is going on in my life.