Said the deer in the pot
‘‘Twas not a good shot
It was ballistic coefficient
Put me in the pot.
With me said the coon
I’m a hat on his head
Cause I simply forgot
About fine alloyed lead
And legions of ghost
With their red coats and gear
All shook their heads
And agreed with the deer
It was not through skill
Or bad luck
We encountered deaths path
We’re simply gone
Cause this guy knew his math
You best got yerself one of them fancy new fangled mini guns so ya can shoot them deers all the way dead