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They loaded their dogs in the pickup truck,
There was Shirley, Buster, Old Guide, and Buck.
They headed on out to higher ground,
The wind was calm, you could hear for miles around.

They gathered up more as they went along,
When they got there they were about fifteen strong.
They turned the dogs loose with a breeze in their face,
Anticipating a wonderful race.

They were scattered around, Ott was telling a tale,
When Shirley's dog struck a hot trail.
It sounded like he had it, and was already gone,
When some more put in and the race was on.

The CB blared out, said "Come in Buck,
From where you're at, you outta be in luck!"
"You better move on up or you'll be late,
They're gonna cross about the old section gate!"

They all took off like a rocket to Mars,
There were five or six pickups, and two or three cars.
But that old coyote, he wasn't so dumb,
He turned right back, the way he had come.

He crossed the road, right where they'd been
He circled North and came right back again!
He seemed to enjoy it till the going got rough,
Then he went in a cave at the base of a bluff.

The caught all their dogs and headed on in,
Just waiting for the day they could do it again.
They'll be back out there come rain or snow,
Cause when you get it in your blood, you gotta go!

Author: Robert H. Miller
Copyright: Staci L. Dye

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