The Hunter
The hunter crouches in his blind 'Neath camouflage of every kind And conjures up a quacking noise To lend allure to his decoys This grown-up man, with pluck and luck is hoping to outwit a duck
PoetryVerse
PoetryVerse
The hunter crouches in his blind 'Neath camouflage of every kind And conjures up a quacking noise To lend allure to his decoys This grown-up man, with pluck and luck is hoping to outwit a duck
Feel free to be first to leave comment.