

ft f*v 'Hf 







And I don't givadam 



How many I get, 



And I never let 



A thing get away 



From my gun-play. 



What is the game for, 



But to kill? 



What are the birds for, 



But to fill 



My insatiate bag ; 



And I never lag 



In doing the whole stunt 



When I go out to hunt. 



And when I have killed 



All there is in sight, 



I pile them up 



To their loftiest height, 



And take my place 



Beside the pile 



To have my photo taken. 



My smile, 



Just then, is something 



You ought to see 



To make you pleased 



With my work and Me. 



By gosh, it takes 



A photograph 



To show just how 



I get in my gaff 



On the helpless things 



I slaughter for fun 



With any old thing 



You can call a gun. 



Oh say, 



Don't I look gay, 



Done up in that slaughter-pen way? 



I'm a Game Hog with a greedy grab, 



And quite well known to fame, 



I haven't got bristles on my back yet, 



But I get there just the same. 



See? 



That's Me. 



Gee whiz, 



What a hog of hogs 



The Game Hog is. 



