I lived on a farm in old South Dakota
We had hunting grounds that I liked to go to
I’d bring my gun to shoot at some birds
It’s real country livin’, no place for city nerds
It’s real country livin’, no place for city nerds

Well I’m shootin’ and I’m shootin’, and each time I’ve sadly missed
My language it was fowl, ‘cause I was getting pissed
It’s about that time, a big thought crossed my mind
I thought I’d get a dog, the hunting, pointing kind
I thought I’d get a dog, the hunting, pointing kind

“Come, little Cricket”, I said to the wire-haired pup
“Let’s learn to hunt, I’ll train you up
You’ll point at the pheasants so I’ll shoot ‘em right”
But Cricket kept on playing, made mischief through the night
Cricket kept on playing, made mischief through the night

“Come, naughty Cricket, I got you for working”
I hated that dog, it always was shirking
That dog even chased some chickens next door
I didn’t want to waste time with that dog anymore
I didn’t want to waste time with that dog anymore

I led the dog away, and brought along my gun
I said I gotta do the thing that must be done
I aimed the barrel and pulled the trigger
Then Cricket yelped and whimpered, and soon had lost all vigor
Then Cricket yelped and whimpered, and soon had lost all vigor

I had a goat as well, but he stunk really bad
And so he got my gun, just like poor Cricket had
I shot them both inside a big gravel pit
And some workers saw it all, but I didn’t give a shit
Yeah some builders saw it all, but I didn’t give a shit

Gather round pols, you should listen to me
You wanna know how to lose your chance at VP?
It’s guaranteed to lose your shot at VP
Just shoot your active puppy, then write about your glee
Just shoot your frisky puppy, then tell the tale with glee

Don’t speak to me of stutters, of Biden-style gaffes
You wanna know what won’t go away with some laughs
I’ve ruined my own chance to be the Donald’s running mate
I’ve ruined my own chance, so Tulsi must feel great…