I hunt de bear, I hunt de moose,
An' sometam hunt de rat;
Las' week I take ma hax an' go
For hunt a skonk polecat.

Ma fren' Beel say he's ver' fine fur,
An' sametam good to heat;
I tell ma wife I get fur coat,
Sametam I get some meat.

I walk 'bout three, five, six mile,
An' then I feel strong smell—
Tink mebbe that dam skonk she die
An' fur coat gone to hell.

Purrsoon bime-by I see that skonk
Close up by one beeg tree;
I sneek up ver' close behin',
I tink he no see me.

Bime-by I'm ver', ver' close,
I raise ma hax up high,
Dat goddam skonk he up an' plunk—
T'row something in my eye.

Oh, Sacre Bleu! I tink I blin';
Jees Chris! I cannot see;
I run roun' an' roun' an' roun'
'Till I bump in goddam tree.

Bime-by I drop ma hax away
An' light out for de shack,
I tink 'bout million skonk
He clim' up on ma back.

Ma wife she meet at de door,
She sic on me de dog;
She say, "You no sleep here tonight,
Go out an' sleep with hog."

I try to get in that pig-pen,
Jees Christ! now what you tink?
Dat goddam hog no stan' for that
On 'count of awful stink.

No more I go for hunt de skonk
To get his fur an' meat;
For if his peese he smell so bad;
Jees Chris! what if he sheet!

The end