February 2, 1911. Omaha Sunday World-Herald 46(19): 10-N. O, You Duck Hunt.
- I love the gentle rains of spring -
- The robin's song.
- How sweet the smell of waking earth;
- The days grow long.
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- I love the meadow lark's refrain,
- I rural ways;
- Greeting the time of nature's birth,
- And balmier days.
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- I love the open marsh and slough -
- The mallard's call;
- Then fix the hunting outfit up,
- We had last fall.
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- I love to join the boys, and go
- To lake or stream,
- Where birds are thick and shooting good,
- Ah what a dream,
-
- I love to find an ideal spot,
- Then build my blind;
- Then leave the world with all it's cares,
- Far, far behind.
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- I love to watch the wavelets dance
- 'Round my decoys,
- And note the "chances taken by
- The other boys.
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- I love to sit within my blind,
- And smoke my pipe;
- Sometimes a nip of Yellowstone,
- that's good and ripe.
-
- I love to try my marksmanship
- On some big goose;
- Take chances on a long, hard shot,
- And jar him loose.
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- I love to see the teal dash in,
- Like cannon balls;
- For each barrel of my hammerless
- A green wing falls.
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- I love the campfire's ruddy glow -
- The grub we chew;
- When Piper He'dseick's passed around,
- I love that too.
-
- I love to feel my heart beat in
- Each finger tip.
- As campfire stories help promote
- Good fellowship.
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- I love to write these little rhymes
- Sometimes, don't you?
- Here comes a bunch of redheads - quick
- Binb-b'ng! Adieu.
- - Ray E. Love
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