Between the dark and the daylight,

When the light is beginning to climb,

comes a pause in the rest of the night

That's known as the hunting time.

I hear in the woods behind me

The patter of tiny feet

The sound of a squeak and a rustle

My hounds strikes the trail, toward the creek.

From my perch I listen to the music

as I’m watched from above by a full moon

I hear my lonely hound getting to it

There’s his locate, off through the timber I zoom

Ticks, Fleas, Chiggers, poison ivy and briars,

Is my reward for ill-cautioned haste.

Boy he sounds as sweet as an east Texas gospel choir,

And he’s chopping like there’s a coon he can taste.

With anticipation I ease through the creek,

To the otherside, I must go.

Through the tangle I got a peek,

Of my dog on the wood, putting on a show.

Slowly I get there, and to my surprise,

There’s a possum up there

With his round glowing eyes,

And pale dirty hair.

I look at my hound, and he knows that look,

He knows I’m not happy with him

To his collar the lead I hook,

Time to head home, tomorrow night we’ll try again.

This is the life of a coonhunter, that I love,

Lots of work but the reward is all so worth it.

And I think the lord above,

For the chance to hunt, whether successful or slick.

So enjoy every moment in the woods,

Like it will be your very last.

Cause time doesn’t stand still like it should,

You’ll cherish your memories of your past.