Classic Poem

I'll write you a poem, of an old mountaineer
Who spent his life hunting, for raccoon and deer.
This old man's cabin was near Salyersville
And the proper name for him was Old Girder Bill.

Girder Bill went hunting one cold winter day,
Up at the deer lick, near Falcon did stray.
He was walking the sky line, and away down below,
His keen eyes were cast on a buck and a doe.

He lowered his cap, which was made of coon skin,
He raised his rifle, his fun did begin.
His coon hound was lying there by on the ground,
At the crack of his rifle a deer tumbled down.

Girder went homeward with mountaineer speed,
A buck on his shoulder, a doe left for seed.
If you would read history, there you would find,
How to cliff-covered mountains, his life was inclined.