Story from "The Ultimate Deer Stand"
Published 1990
The book is full of wonderful hunting humor and stories!
Author is Mert Cowley, Barron County, Wisconsin
Weak-Eyes Sweeny
Weak-Eyes Sweeny took a bead,
At what he thought a buck indeed.
With horns like branches on its head,
With careful aim he dropped it dead.
It never moved from where it stood,
He ambled over thinking he would gut the thing
And drag it back and brag aloud that such a rack
Had never hung from off the pole
Since camp had started long ago.
Weak-Eyes knelt beside his kill
Admired it as hunters will.
A stately trophy, truly regal
He'd keep this one strictly legal.
With all his strength, and all his might,
He attached his tag, and locked it tight.
He realized the drag was long.
But knew his compass wasn't wrong.
He took a reading, grabbed the rope,
And started up the awful slope.
Two hours passed before the crest.
And at the top he paused to rest.
Thoughts of camp, a good warm meal
And after supper, cards to deal.
A million thoughts went through his mind.
A-hah he laughed, the buck pool's mine!
For all the years, I've entered it,
I've never won, but didn't quit.
His strength returned, he took the rope,
And worked his prize back down the slope.
The big spruce swamp then blocked his trail,
But he pulled and struggled and didn't fail.
he hit the tote road, tired and damp
A mile more he'd be in camp.
A shortcut crossing Rocky Crick,
Would get him back just twice as quick.
T'was way past dark when he hit the drive,
He called, "Come out," and the camp came alive.
In long johns and red shirts, all sorts of attire,
On the porch they all gathered, Sweeny's buck to admire.
Weak-Eyes then said, "Boys, I've something to say,
That nickname you gave me has caused me dismay
For twenty odd years. I've not said one word."
But for awe of his trophy his speech went unheard.
Then Big Ralph, the camp cook, stepped out of the crowd.
His voice trembled a little as he tried to speak load,
"That nickname we call you isn't meant to be mean
We like you in camp, if the truth could be seen.
We got real worried when you didn't show,
But we didn't know which way to look or to go.
Weak-Eyes we've called you, for fear of being shot,
So we made a decision, here's what we've got.
We took a collection, charged each one a fee,
And bought you some glasses, so now you can see.
Put them on, turn around, you old swamp buck's rump
That deer that you dragged in,
is an old Pine tree stump."
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