Wild turkeys gobbled loudly
From the trees along the lane;
Some muskrat and a beaver
Swam the creek beneath the bank;
Two whitetail bucks were grazing...
Then alert their 'brotherhood'
That Old Farmer Brown is coming
With his rifle...(that ain't good!).
In a clearing, three black buzzards
Find a 'possum long-since died;
They leave nothing but the odor,
And a pile of bones and hide.
Crows are set to 'clean' the cornfield
Then a thund'rous sound rings out...
Farmer Brown has fired his SHOTGUN...
NOT his rifle...there's no doubt.
The feathers flew, and two big crows
Came crashing to the ground;
(You let them lie, as evidence...
If others come around.)
The buzzards flapped into the air
With 'fresh kill' on their minds,
But they waited 'til Old Farmer Brown
Had left the field behind.
The buzzards swooped down on the crows
And carried them away
Back to their gruesome clearing
Where bones of 'possum lay.
Not seeing their dead comrades
The crows returned to feast;
The deer came back...they brought a HERD
Of twenty-five...at least.
The turkeys and the beaver
And the muskrat felt no threat;
The Farmer'd shot at them for years
And hadn't hit one yet.
So all was peaceful on the farm
With everyone in place;
The animals and humans
Alive and sharing space.
Old Farmer Brown removed his boots,
Prepared to take his ease;
Then said unto his 'missus,'
"I'd like some coffee.....please."
She brought it in, then asked of him,
"Did you just shoot your gun?"
"Shore did" he said, "them varmints
Was havin' too much fun!"
"I warned the turkeys...beavers,
The muskrat an' some deer
That they will face my wrath...AGAIN,
If I ever find 'em here.
I let the buzzards and the crows
Know THIS PLACE I COMMAND!
An' it only took ONE shot for me
To chase 'em off my land!"