Now the hunting season's over,
And old Mike is satisfied.
Still he's thinking of the chases.
That he had in idle wild.
Running rabbits on the hill sides,
And you'd hear his old voice ring,
Just to tell you that he's coming,
On the trail of Bunny King.
Then you'd hear the old gun whimper,
And old Mike would jump with glee.
Off he'd wander in the thickets,
Just to jump one more for me.
Then you'd see another rabbit.
Come a-hoppjng on with ease.
For old Mike would run him ragged,
Till he fell in front of me.
Now the hunting season's ended,
And the weather's turning cold.
Poor old Mike fell fast asleep.
Lying down behind the stove.
Yes, he's dreaming of the fun,
That he had with man and gun
In the thickets where he'd hunt,
Just to make the rabbits jump.
For old Mike has lots of grit,
And he said it's time to quit,
So I'll say good-bye to you,
Till we hear again from you.
Hunter-Trader-Trapper. October: 1921,
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