Author: Brad Royster
Originally Published In Full Cry Magazine (January 1990)
It was ten o'clock
On a cool autumn night.
As we turn out the dogs
We buckle on our lights,
We had Old Bugle, Jargo, and Joe
As Old Jargo opens up
It's off we go
Through the brush and weeds,
The corn and wheat
We stop to rest our aching feet
Now the dogs
Are running strong
They know he's in there
So it won't be long
They've been running for hours
Checking out trees
Not even stopping
To scratch a flea.
We make our way
Through the tall, brushy weeds
To the hiding coon and the dogs
Which are treed.
The dogs are treed hard
So we begin to walk,
Listening to the mountain music
As we talk.
We get to the tree
And have spotted the coon,
I pull out my squaller
So he'll be down soon.
The coon came out
And gave the dogs a fight
But soon we go home
And will return
Tomorrow night .