Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight hunt of yer mother dear.
When the elk were bugling loud in the mount,
And all of the family decided to hunt.
When the others had left with all their gear
And nobody but Hannah was anywhere near,
Yer mom got lonely and yer mom got loony,
And yer mom decided to follow the moony.
Up and she got her, up and away,
Nothing and no one could get her to stay.
Your mother packed up, and loaded the car,
With blankets and pillows and water jar.
Whatever the wind, whatever the weather,
Mother and Hannah were camping together.
They sped through Falcon, Marksheffel and Fountain,
Waldensburg, Monte Vista and on to the mountains.
Dad came down to meet her at friends,
And together they drove to sundry road ends.
From Alamosa they head for the hills,
And for forty-five minutes western beauty spills.
They stop by a river gurgling and splashing
Where yellow cottonwoods stand unabashing.
They hit a dirt road and eat dust by the spoonful
While Hannah is singing a mouthful of tuneful.
The dust is bad and the sun is glaring
Right into the windshield where Mom is staring.
Then all of a sudden a disaster occurs--
The back door of Dad’s topper came open unawares.
And one thing after another went plop!
Down onto the road, but yer Pa wouldn’t stop.
A black boot, then a coat, then another black boot.
Oh, Pa, please, please stop! Will I have to shoot?
Yer Ma honks the horn for all she is worth,
But yer pa, remember, is in elk-hunting turf.
His head’s in the clouds and his eyes are aglow,
And he hasn’t a care in the world just now, so
Your mother’s loud honking must dry to a toot
While she brakes to a stop to pick up the first boot.
Then the coat, and now boot number two.
Then a bag with orange juice, oh now what to do?
She drives on in the dust and the glare of the sun,
Hoping over no more items to run.
Yer Pa finally must’ve looked in his mirror,
For he’d turned around now to see a bit clearer
What all had fallen from the back of his truck
And onto the road or into dry muck.
And how his poor wife was faring way back out of sight,
Who now had caught up and saved him from fright.
On reaching a meadow with cattle guard bad,
Mom parks Carrie's car and climbs in with Dad.
Mom is on the hunt now for the elk and her honey,
And it really doesn't matter that she hasn't much money.
She has her pillow and blanket in tow
And her water jugs and long janes are ready to go.
You can't see Dad's truck for all of the dirt,
But that is okay; a bit of mud just won't hurt.
They stop at a cliff that's a thousand feet down,
To a river that is miles and miles from a town.
They look at the New Mexico ridgeline that winds
By the ancient and ghastly bristlecone pines.
They arrive at the campsite after forty-five minutes
Where Rose is quite ready her story to spin it.
All dressed in her orange hunting gear suit
Rose shows Mom her elk and beams in her boot.
Rose got this fair dame of an elk in the meadow,
A shot that will fill all remaining elk with dread-Oh!
That shot severed the arteries at the heart and backbone
Leaving the bull elk all sad and lone.
But only for a day, for Alonzo him downed,
So they can meet again in Elk Happy Hunting Ground.
But anyway, back to this blissful hunting story,
Of Mom Lucas going camping in all of her glory.
In all of her long janes and baggy blue coat,
With warm socks, fuzzy scarf, and checking the totes
For where on earth is the food so we can have supper,
So she looks in the bags and pans and all of the tupper.
Rose cooks slices of elk, its tender backstrap
In the big iron skillet, and it's done in a snap.
We all stand around in the absence of chairs,
But when you hunt elk, why really who cares?
We chaw on elk back strap and warm sweet potatoes,
And roast some King Sooper mashed marshmallows.
Mom eats a small bowl of Tammy's chicken soup
Which is flavored with some kind of hot peppers, oh whoop!
Soon her mouth is all hot and her lips are a-sting,
And before you all know it, she's kinda going zing!
The zipper on the tent is going, almost gone.
It gets stuck when it's up, it gets stuck when it's down.
If it's cold outside, to be inside you hope
When the zipper decides to not respond to your grope.
But if you've got to use the cute camp portajohn,
Let's hope that the zipper suddenly turns itself on.
Inside that old tent there is smoke upon smoke.
And that's no exaggeration and that is no joke.
Your mom stood there in that poor old white tent,
Hoping not to take her turn with the zipper that's spent.
Before very long, eight o’clock, time for bed,
Time to crawl in your sleeping bag 'n' pillow yer head.
For your mom an amazing camping cot did appear,
Out of nowhere or somewhere, but don't worry, don't fear.
When Mom can't figure out how to set the thing up,
Which side is down and which side is up,
Your dad has a way of appearing on the scene
And figuring it all out all twixt and all tween.
For Hannah Mom two garbage bags spreads
Under a table, on which to lay her bed.
So all of us crawl into bed cozy and comfy
Even if everything is all a bit cattawumfy.
They snuggle up tight in their sleeping bags warm,
Only noses peeking out, and they set their alarm.
Alonzo listens to the game scores for a sec,
And Mom tries to think how to keep kinks from her neck.
The quilt under Hannah is a little bit wet,
And the blanket over Mom smells worse than a pet.
It smells like the diesel that spilled in Dad's truck,
But when you are hunting, it's part of the guck
That you've got to put up with when you're on an elk hunt.
To have everything perfect's an impossible stunt.
So you go to bed on a thin mat or a cot,
Or on a thin quilt if that is all that you've got.
You wear your old clothes and don't think pj's,
Cause there's nowhere to change on elk hunts nowadays.
Mom takes down her hair and Dad gives her a kiss,
And they huddle with the kids in un-marital bliss.
Yer Mom wakes up with a blister in her lips
From the jalapeno pepper in her chicken soup sips.
Her lip has a blister, her neck has a kink,
Her hipbones are hurting, her eyelids won't blink.
But your mom won't stay home when the elk hunt is on.
From now on for the weekend your mom is along.
The john is too far so in bed she must stay,
But your mom on this elk hunt is NOT staying away.
The zipper won't work, so Mom stays in her bed,
Till the alarm rings at 4:30 instead.
Then I must tell you--the day comes to life
For children and Alonzo and husband and wife,
For Tammy and Kevin with face ebony black,
And everyone is hunting for their hunting packs.
Outside is pitch dark, outside it is cold,
But they're going for elk, they are going for the gold!
They put on their gloves and they throw on their guns,
They put on their orange, hurry up everyone!
They start up the engines on the poor old four-wheelers,
And soon they are gone like some guilty car dealers.
They're gone to the mountains to find all their wealth,
To sit behind blinds and hike in great stealth.
Your mom's back to bed but not back to sleep.
Her feet won't get warm and mountain cold creeps.
She can't remember all the names on her folded prayer list,
So she prays some small prayers, and hopes God gets the gist.
Then she's up about eight to visit the john,
And since it's so cold she puts other johns on.
Which might leave you in part mystified,
If you don't know which john is which; you decide.
Then Mom goes outside and helps Hannah start a fire,
For breakfast must cook for when the hunters retire.
Hannah whittles some kindling and Mom strikes the match.
Then blow, mother, blow! Oh catch, fire, catch!
Mom's a great camper, but the fire won't start
For almost an hour. Starting fire is an art.
Mom crinkles up paper and crouches to blow
Till her oxygen level is dangerously low.
Gotta gulp in some air, gotta wipe your burnt eyes
When the smoke blows in your face by surprise.
So yer mom and your sis coaxed the fire back to life,
And you're proud of your dad. Be proud of his wife!
She sizzled the bacon and scrambled the eggs,
And I won't tell you 'bout the spill, not even if you beg.
I'm not telling you 'bout the eggs that spilled right into the coals,
Not even if you whimper, nor whine nor cajole.
Nobody will ever hear about that silly mistake,
'Cause your mom was elk hunting, for pity's sake.
A camp robber gray kept fluttering and swooping
And pecking at Rosie's elk hide that was drooping.
We sat in the sun; dead wood we did gather
For tomorrow there's a big change in the weather.
And your mom will come home, but the rest all will stay
Cause this is what happens on elk hunts today.
Then we hear a far roar of the four-wheeler. Please!
And we wait till an orange hat comes twixt the trees.
And Timmy chugs up to tell us the news,
That Alonzo got a bull elk and skeedaddles our blues.
Now Timmy must find lots of elk-holding straps,
And Hannah and I run to find orange hats.
With Timmy we're both going to jump on and ride
With Mom's orange vest and denim skirt all astride,
But then all of a sudden Kevin comes in sight,
With Sam's four-wheeler's tire flat and rim bent, what a plight!
Kevin must go back with Timmy on the seat
That Hannah and I would have ridden so neat.
We swallow our disappointment and take it in stride.
Next year your mom will get a four-wheeler ride.
But wait. Not next year. This year, says your dad.
"I'll give you the ride you were supposed to have had."
But before I get to that part of the story,
I have to get back to the bloody and gory.
We wait and we wait for an hour and a half
Till finally the roars of the hunters make us laugh.
With vim and with valor, with gusto and pride,
The hunters arrive with the bull elk astride
The back of Alonzo's four-wheeler, ship shape,
With guts all removed and tongue hanging agape.
We ladies all cheer; we ladies all yell;
It's okay in this circumstance to jump for a spell.
We take fancy pictures, and congratulate well,
The hunter whose story we soon want to tell.
Your mother, my dear, has scurried about
To have lots of food for the hungry hunters set out.
There are hot dogs and brats, and bacon with eggs,
There is salad and cookies and coffee gone to dregs.
And while the others are keeping their blood sugar steady,
Your pa sets your ma on the four-wheeler now ready.
He's taking your ma for a ride in the hills,
Through the woods and the meadows where happy hearts thrill.
We bump along merrily where ruts wend their way
And we think how could there be a happier day,
With the sky blue with clouds, the sun warm on our backs,
And God looking down on us; nothing we lack.
Yer pa and yer ma stop somewhere down in the woods
Where we share quite a few kisses that sound really good.
And then we go tearing back out to the camp
Where the guys are a-hanging that big bull elk scamp.
They're shimmying up two big aspen trees
To set a cross-log to hang the elk in the breeze.
But yer dad and yer sis and yer mom's got to run,
Cause back at the homestead chores got to be done.
So yer ma and yer pa and yer sis ride the road
All the way to the cattle guard where Carrie's car's stowed.
Dad kisses yer ma, and she's off in the dust,
Leaving hubby and kids and the elk there she must.
And now here she is at home on the ranch,
Feedin the fire with scrap wood and black branch.
Havin' done all the laundry and washed every dish,
And cleaned up the kitchen as much as she'd wish.
While up in the mountains yer dad texts his blues
That snowin' and rainin' and sleetin' is news.
But yer mom and yer sis milk the goat, tend the dogs,
Feed the bunnies, haul water, and take off their clogs.
Yer sis does her school work, which yer mother checks,
They unload the car and the mail inspect.
Then yer mother sits down and writes this here rhyme
"Bout the wonderful, marvelous, fantastic time
Up there in the mountains where wild elk roam--
But she's happy now back at her home, sweet home!
