I bagged a moose in my pickup truck.
Don’t take no skill, no, it just takes luck.
Late one night in the pourin’ rain
It couldn’t, in a million years, happen again.
Payday on a Friday in the Great White North
Lickin’ my wounds ‘bout a painful divorce.
It was last call for alcohol; 2am
Said, ‘Make mine a double. Thank you, ma’am.’
Fired up my Flairside, dropped it into drive Headed toward the interstate for that high speed ride
Dialed in the cruise control, cranked up the radio
By the time I looked back to the road, there was noplace to go.
Bullwinkle standing there, 10 feet wide. I slammed on the brakes and dove for the side.
Read end broke loose and came clear around
I hear a thump and then a bump, then, not a sound
It took 15 minutes just to open my eyes I was neatly parked on the left-hand shoulder, to my surprise.
I looked into the rear-view mirror and what did I see?
Them glassy, dead eyes they was staring back at me.
Never one to let an opportunity pass
I drove that moose back home and dumped him on my grass
Found an old pillow, cracked open a beer
Then I put one round precisely in that motherfucker’s ear.
First light next morning, I made 3 phone calls. The first was to the Game Warden, Officer Paul.
“Something charged toward the house. I hollered, then I shot.”
Better come real quick and we’ll see what we got.
You might think me sleazy, you might think me wrong, But I had a license to shoot a moose in my pocket all along.
It don’t make me better, it don’t make me proud,
But it does make me as lucky as the law will allow.
You just might be wonderin’ bout them other calls I made. One was to my butcher friend. “Bring a sharp blade.”
The other to a gal I met at last year’s sportsman’s show
She had a booth and a gold-capped tooth, ‘Taxidermy Jo’.
Stands for Jo-Ann or Jody or something, I don’t know, but I think I’m in love.
Everything went perfectly and Paul said I was cool. It wasn’t perfectly legal you know, but he was sure he could bend the rules.
But I knew he liked his moose burgers cooked on the grill.
My friend pulled up. I said you’re in luck. Paul, meet my friend Bill.
Things weren’t so cool later on that day. Jo showed up, put the head in her truck. Then she drove away.
Called ‘bought an hour later, said, ‘Tell me, dear,
How’d this poor bull-moose get feathers in his ear?”
Chorus I bagged that moose with my pickup truck
At the bottom of the hill, he was a sittin’ duck.
Late last night in the pourin’ rain.
Couldn’t in a million years happen again.