A Warden's Night Before Christmas
Adapted in December 2004 by Jack Edwards, Retired Game Warden

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the hills
not a spotlight was shining, everything was still.

The Warden was wrung out, too mindless to care,
knowing chances of catching them hadn't a prayer.

The poachers weren't nestled all snug in his beds,
they were hiding and sneaking, stirring deer from their beds.

When off in the distance there arose such a clatter,
I just heard a gunshot, I knew what was the matter.

It was over the hills, somewhere east or was it west,
I must catch these poachers, I must do my best.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a super ol' Warden, oblivious to fear.

More rapid than eagles, his instructions they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Call Jeeter! Call Pirtle! Call Karnow, so neat!
Call back Hodges & Wictum! The team was complete!

I was talking with Sabertooth, the warden supreme,
he knew chasing poachers, the smart and the mean.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he showed us the plan, then he turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger on his nose with glee,
if we followed his plan, it would work perfectly.

The poachers would be caught, we were hot on their trail,
We were ready to spring, our trap couldn't fail.

We covered each path, we covered each trail,
The plane had them spotted, to hide, no avail.

The poachers, they were finished, their deeds were concluded,
the father the son, the brother included!

We rounded them up, with excitement to spare
We had the evidence, we had it all there.

We hooked them and booked them, impounded their trucks,
The jail time and fines, it would cost lots of bucks.

The warden went home, with a smile on her face,
she had worked with the masters, where she now took her place.