The bawling of walkers, blueticks and curs
on warm nights and cool nights our blood it stirs,

Papers don't matter at all in the end
the companion, the hunter is what makes him your friend

Some think we're ignorant and some say dumb
But we know that royalty began what we love

Oh, the hounds that we care for, the memories they make
are much much tasterier than a fired grilled steak

someday we'll grow old, too old to hunt
But our hearts will remember and beat with a thump

So savor the time spent with your good pet
whether a redbone, plott or english you kept

Be it lion or bobcat or bear or coon
the excitment of hunting will always resume