The Hunt

Lamp light flickers in the howling wind In the cove with blizzards cold that stings Rattling glass and metal house a fragile flame inside Balanced there on ancient oil Held by the trapper's nimble fingers Frozen as they go Fox pelts are dear Fetch very little at the trading post Snow piles higher than prices ever will The thrill of the hunt is gone As the game goes on for miles Legislators took our guns All weapons banned forever The only way to catch our prey Is to strangle them to death with hands While they lie sleeping They must lie better than Senators To pay the price for living