A COON HUNTER'S PRAYER
by Earl Spicer
Let me take my dogs to the timber tonight,
Where nature is close at hand,
Let me hear the wail of a lonesome owl,
Let me be a hunting man.
Now, I will not care if the luck is poor,
If the catch is never made,
But patiently wait with listening ears,
And say, "Old Blue has bayed."
Please let the hound voice say the hunt is on,
The heat of the chase be told,
May the voices of Blue and Kate be heard,
Let my blood run calm and cold.
If the hunt is good, the night a success,
Let me hear them near a tree,
May their tree bark calm the echoing hills,
Let them sit and call to me.
Let me respond with an anxious hope,
The hope of a pleasing sight,
Let there be up high in a rugged oak,
Two eyes that reflect my light.
Let me pat my dogs on their faithful heads,
Be pleased with the race they ran,
May they feel my earnest love for them,
The love of a coon hunting man.
And when trumpets blow at our God's command,
To open the pearly gates,
May the dear Lord allow among the sounds up there,
The voices of Blue and Kate.
