All the turkey's in Missuri said, no man can take them down.

So over the hill comesthe great turkey hunterarrow.

He's not living up to his name, he's carring a mossberg barrel.

He layed down in the tall tall grass forno turkey, he could let pass.

He raised his gun, for his one and only shot.

Click is what he heard, for the shot was not.

Then there was fire, on the other side of the woods.

He's arrow's buddy, so youknow his day isno good.

He raises his gun boom boom boom

Nothing but feather's,by the set of the moon.

They both looked at each other and sagged.

I wish hunting junkie was here to fill our tags.