AIRGUN POETRY

[Mr D]

'ode tae theairsporter my man'

ma big spoot
i licht tae shoot
ma Airsporter through the dae
the dawnin and the duskin
the coneys and the pidgins
rats a moouse an' craws
be the score I have taken em
The sporter tis the bes' and I will nae tak
no less
yers can kip yr germanicus rifles to yerself
for I'm a Airsporter man
till you throw me in the loch


This ode to the BSA Airsporter came to me while I was out after Mr Rabbit this cold afternoon and I thought it might share it with you all. Do any of you have a favorite airgun poem? Adam Lindsay Gordon was the poet of the rifle in his day and it would be nice if we as a body of sportsmen, could follow his example.

[hwvixen]

Very good.....i'm off for a wee dram mesell..

[Baxterbasics]

One really must keep up with the times!
For you, Haiku:

Daystate, Trigger squeezed
Softly, I anticipate
Target falling

Dissapointment, despair
Uncharged rifle, full
Of Useless air

I Thaaaang you

[T 20]

The boy stood on the burning deck,
his Weihrauch all a quiver,
he gave a cough,
his leg fell off,
and floated down the river.






























I'll just get me coat

[lemans-r]

twang bang pidgeon in a pan with some veg im a happy full man

[Scimmy]

Creeping, creeping through the mire
Oh airgun quarry I do aspire
Check the wind and allow for drop
Squeeze the trigger and miss the spot
Sod this for a game its bloody dire
I'll have that bugger with the HMR





Exit stage left.......

[edbear2]

I cant do poetry, but this guy can!

One pearly day of early may I strolled upon the sand,
And saw, say half a mile away,A man with gun in hand;
A dog was cowering to his will, as slow he sought to creep,
upon a dozen ducks so still, They seemed to be asleep.

When like a streak the dog dashed out,the ducks flashed up in flight,
The fellow gave a savage shout, and cursed with all his might.
Then I stood somewhat amazed,And gazed with eyes agog,
With bitter rage his gun he raised and blazed and shot the dog.

You know how dogs can yelp with pain;Its blood soaked in the sand,
And yet it crawled to him again, and tried to lick his hand.
"Forgive me lord for what I've done" it seemed as if it said,
But once again he raised his gun, This time he shot it - dead

What could I do?, What could I say?, 'twas such a lonlely place,
Tongue-tied I saw him stride away, I never saw his face,
I should have bawled the ####### out, a yellow dog he slew,
But worse, he proved beyond a doubt, That - I was yellow too.

[Binners]

I cant do poetry, but this guy can!

One pearly day of early may I strolled upon the sand,
And saw, say half a mile away,A man with gun in hand;
A dog was cowering to his will, as slow he sought to creep,
upon a dozen ducks so still, They seemed to be asleep.

When like a streak the dog dashed out,the ducks flashed up in flight,
The fellow gave a savage shout, and cursed with all his might.
Then I stood somewhat amazed,And gazed with eyes agog,
With bitter rage his gun he raised and blazed and shot the dog.

You know how dogs can yelp with pain;Its blood soaked in the sand,
And yet it crawled to him again, and tried to lick his hand.
"Forgive me lord for what I've done" it seemed as if it said,
But once again he raised his gun, This time he shot it - dead

What could I do?, What could I say?, 'twas such a lonlely place,
Tongue-tied I saw him stride away, I never saw his face,
I should have bawled the ####### out, a yellow dog he slew,
But worse, he proved beyond a doubt, That - I was yellow too.

Nice one Eddie

[Greylag]

My attempt at poetry

In the dead of night the rats are out, their scurrying can be heard,
The pellets loaded, the sights are set, you dare not utter a word,
Your bait is out, you wait about for the elusive mr rat,
You see a glint as you squint and move your sights to that,

The triggers squeezed there's a slight bang and the pellets on the fly,
A split second later you look amazed, as a healthy rat runs by,
The little sh*t should have been hit but no its running fast,
You thought to yourself you'd got the bugger and it had breathed its last.

Oh well there's always another day, you're thinking to yourself,
I'll be back I'm sure of that, if I'm still alive and in good health,
Then mr rat will breathe his last if I can get it right,
If I don't I'll be as sick as a parrot and think what a load of sh*te

Ratting is fun with dog or gun and the scaly tails are rife,
It's getting late it's time to go home to live your daily life.

Regards