Poem by Ellis Parker Butler

The Hunter

A full-fledged gun cannot endure
The trifling of an amateur;
Poor marksmanship its temper spoils
And this is why the gun recoils.

A self-respecting gun I’m sure
Delights to jar the amateur
And thinks that it is no disgrace
To kick his shoulder out of place.

Moral

When you go out to hunt, my son
Prepare to circumvent your gun
And on your shoulder firmly bind
A pillow of the largest kind.

1. Song for Heroes
2. A Satisfactory Reform
3. A Scotchman Whose Name Was Isbister
4. Night in the City
5. The Golf Walk

Clinton Scollard The Hunter ("I crept up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar")

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