Our night is long and sometimes cold, a campfires where we meet.
Hot coffee brewing, soft voices flowing, just waiting patiently.
Then from the dark the sounds erupt, theres running everywhere.
The dogs have treed and hope from me, a coon is there to see.
We hurry and we scramble out to the spot just right.
Then to our surprise, lights lifted high a coon hunters treed tonight.
The dogs are called and in our haste to get the poor man down.
The fact is missed that on his wrist, a coon tail dangles down.