The hound–he came to be my dog one night.
I made a trade so I could hunt a coon.
The owner took my roping dummy bright
and said the dog would tree by light of moon.
In an old shed I made a bed of straw.
The dog lay down and did not even whine.
He was the best ‘coon dog I ever saw
and I was happy that he now was mine.
The first night that I took him on a hunt,
he barked and barked and tried to climb a tree.
I saw a tiny raccoon — just a runt –
his sparking eyes, they seemed to plead with me.
I slowly put my gun down by my side
and listened to my ‘coon dog bay with pride.
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols