The Legend of Trapper Jim

At Elkhorn Outfitters,

there’s a hunting guide,

With a full face beard,

And a horse to ride.

 

He isn’t short,

And he isn’t slim.

But today he’s known

As Trapper Jim.

 

It happened one night

In a hunting shack

High in the mountains,

A range known as Black.

 

We were tired and worn

With no elk hunting tale,

So Jim cooked dinner

And poured water in a pail.

 

What’s that, I said, to my Elkhorn guide,

All the horses been watered,

We’re done with our ride.

But there’s mice in our cabin,

He answered with a grin….

 

So began the legend of Trapper Jim.

 

Twas an ol water bucket

not filled to the brim,

With a beer can on an axle

So the danged thing would spin.

 

A stick made a trail for the mice to climb.

Jim said they’d follow each other

And die every time.

 

Good food’s hard to find for

the white-footed mouse,

So they smelled the cheese

and rushed to our house.

 

Yet, nobody had a clue about

what was to begin.

Twas a mouse catchin’

record by my guide,

Trapper Jim.

 

First, one mouse, than two

And soon there were four.

Five, six and seven,

Who’d a thunk there’d be more?

 

But the trap kept on trapping,

Oh my what a scene.

When we woke the next morning,

Trapper Jim had thirteen.

 

When my elk hunt was over,

Only Jim had a story.

He’d set a mouse trapping record,

And got all the glory.

 

So, that’s the end of my tale

Of huntin’ and such,

Of following Jim

And not shooting much.

 

But, he’s a mighty fine fella,

Not short and not slim.

If it’s trophy mice you’re seekin’,

Your best guide is Trapper Jim.