Okay, so, if I say this hunter wears a cowboy hat and smokes, is it easy enough to guess whom it is ? Quite a silly poem, but what is there not to love about silliness?


A HUNTER'S SHORT STORY

A gun in each hand, one man down,
Another one bites the dust and I frown.
Well, friendly kills, the thirsty dies.
You see, I am not one to eat these lies.

Everyone knows that bloodsuckers are mad,
And though their minds seem quite sad
I have never dreamed of a different way :
They are the ones I was born to slay.

Let me tell you that I have no regrets,
You like women and I like cigarettes.


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