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Manning
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The Huntsman & the Poacher
The Huntsman spies the Poacher's tracks in snow on a crisp winter's day
A sack of fresh conies hanging up in the oak tree, the cold breeze sways
Tobacco pouch, his carved pipe & his coat clearly shows his mark
& the huntsman wipes his aged brow so the deadly game can now start again
Lying across a hollowed stump, so his rifle aim is assured
The deer in the clearing has not seen him & yet it hesitates
One on one, man & prey bask in the silence of final moments
& then he'll be back on the road to his home & his wife
At the end of the day...
At the end of the day...
At the end of the day...
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It will be over
Ahead in his spyglass, the huntsman views his foe in this frozen moment.
Fixes his sights on the hollow & fires with drawn breath
One on one, the law & the breaker, his justice is swift...
The figure lying there on the ground in the red of crushed berries
At the end of the day...
At the end of the day...
At the end of the day...
It will be over
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