Almost every day during the hunting season You see at least one item in the newspapers about somebody who has shot somebody else Under the impression that he was a deer with a red hat perhaps Maybe a large flesh-colored squirrel At any rate, it seems to me that this marks an encouraging new trend in the field of blood sports And deserves a new type of hunting song which I present herewith I always will remember 'Twas a year ago November I went out to hunt some deer On a mornin' bright and clear I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow I was in no mood to trifle I took down my trusty rifle And went out to stalk my prey What a haul I made that day I tied them to my fender, and I drove them home somehow Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow The law was very firm, it Took away my permit The worst punishment I ever endured It turned out there was a reason Cows were out of season And one of the hunters wasn't insured People ask me how I do it And I say: There's nothin' to it You just stand there lookin' cute And when something moves, you shoot And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred Guernsey cow