Coon Hunting.
By James McIntyre
Canadians oft by light of moon
Love to go a hunting coon,
But this our tale it is no yarn,
While chopping down tree Henry Karn
Found therein a hollow chamber
Full of coons who there did clamber,
It made them a home superior,
Warm and snug in the interior.
And he did count therein eleven
Who long had found it a safe haven,
But it is sad to read their fate,
For out of them he slaughtered eight.
But trouble to him now occurs
What shall he do with those fine furs,
Shall he grand overcoat display
Or make them into robe for sleigh.