"Trapper Bill" poem

My Granny, Norma, married Horace Crandell after my Grandad died. Horace was a soft-spoken man, who won awards playing oldtime fiddle music.

Just like Thomas S. Monson, Horace had many, many poems memorized by heart, and could recite them at any time. This was one of the poems he performed for us at a family gathering:


Trapper Bill

I met a friend the other day
My good neighbor, Trapper Bill.
We sat down to chat a while
As good neighbors often will.
Said I to Bill, “What’s that you got
A carryin’ on your back?”
Said Trapper Bill, “It’s a baby skunk
I got in that there gunny sack.”
“What! A baby skunk!
And haven’t you killed it yet?”
Said Trapper Bill, “I’m gonna take it home
And raise it for a pet.”
“But baby skunks are tender, Bill,
At least so I’ve been told.
He’s apt to freeze some winter night,
That howling wind is cold.”
Then Bill bit off another chew
And slowly scratched his head.
“That baby skunk won’t freeze at night
He’s gonna sleep with me in bed.”
Then I said to Trapper Bill
“I think your notion’s swell.
But tell me please, what will you do
About that awful smell?”
Do you think that worried him?
Not a doggone bit.
“That baby skunk,” said Trapper Bill
Will soon get used to it.”