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
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