Downhome Magazine

Myrtle Moose

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Myrtle Moose met Marvin Moose
One day behind the red caboose.
Myrtle said (with little tact)
"I'm not impressed by your puny rack."

Marvin turned and walked the track.
His feelings hurt by Miss Myrtle's crack.
He skulked along upon the ties,
Big moose tears falling from his eyes.

Myrtle walked the other way.
She felt proud; She'd had her say.
She held her head high and sniffed the air.
She tossed her mane without a care.

Past the old train then into the woods,
Myrtle sauntered. The alders were good.
She didn't see or smell the man
Watching her, a gun in hand.

The hunter had Myrtle in his sights.
He cocked his gun but Myrtle took flight.
She'd heard a sound, a rustling of leaves.
Myrtle the moose ran through the trees.

And as she ran, she spied the gun
But she also saw what had made her run.
Hid in the bush was Marvin the moose
Rubbing his rack to set her loose.

Myrtle Moose met Marvin Moose
Next day behind the red caboose.
Myrtle said with a lot more tact:
"Your rack is great! And that's a fact."

 
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