Coon hunting with hounds

The Ballad of the Bluetick

written by Marshall Giddings

My bluetick coonhounds won't hear a sound, her minds busy, his nose to the ground. They sniff high and low as the creek bed winds. i have no doubt that it is blood on their minds. The air is crisp and The moon is bright, as i wait for the howls that echo in the night. the weather is unforgiving and cold. now I know why they leave coon hunting to the bold. My gun is loaded my light held tight. I bet ill be up all night, tracking and trailing the hounds that run just out of sight. A better place to be ill never know, i hope my enthusiasm only continues to grow. While i may trip or move slow. thats a speed my hounds don't know. Guaranteed my bluetick's will hunt til dawn. howling, growling and showing their brawn. Promise you they give will give it all their might, to find that ringtailed bandit and give him a fight. Once again i wait for the call, not a bark or a growl but a howl that beats all, for Thats the sound of the hound. and its heard best in the back woods. which is where we can be found. The nights we don't tree them its hard to grin, but then I remember next weekend I can run the hell hounds again!

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