One pleasant summer day it came a storm of snow; I picked my old gun and a-hunting I did go.
I came across a herd of deer and I trailed them through the snow, I trailed them to the mountains where straight up they did go.
I trailed them o'er the mountains, I trailed them to the brim, And I trailed them to the waters where they jumped in to swim.
I cocked both my pistols and under water went,-- To kill the fattest of them deer, that was my whole intent.
While I was under water five hundred feet or more I fired both my pistols; like cannons did they roar.
I picked up my venison and out of water came,-- To kill the balance of them deer, I thought it would be fun.
So I bent my gun in circles and fired round a hill. And, out of three or four deer, ten thousand I did kill.
Then I picked up my venison and on my back I tied And as the sun came passing by I hopped up there to ride.
The sun she carried me o'er the globe, so merrily I did roam That in four and twenty hours I landed safe at home.
And the money I received for my venison and skin, I taken it all to the barn door and it would not all go in.
And if you doubt the truth of this I tell you how to know: Just take my trail and go my rounds, as I did, long ago.