From Barry McGuire's "Eve of Destruction"

The northern woods, soon be explodin'
Spam's a packin', pick-ups loadin'
You're told your boss you're ill
But you're jus goad'n
You'll never shoot a doe
Then what's that tag your totin'
Yes, soon your float'n liver, and fat belly's bloat'n

But you tell me
Over and over again my fiend
You might perceive we're on
The eve of hunt season

You'll hunt state land, you don't have to pay
Can't you see other hunters a few yards away
If a button is whacked, just cover it with hay
There'll be no jeers your way
With that fawn in a grave
Take a look around you boy
No one saw you shoot it boy

But you tell me
Over and over again my friend
You just deceived, we're on
The eve of hunt season

My guts so bad
Feels like coagulatin'
And I'm just squattin' here
Constipatin'
I drank too much vermouth
I got dehydration
A hand full of roll-aids
Won't stop this sensation
And starches alone
Ain't 'nuff medication
When willful neglect
Makes a regurgitation
The whole damn woods
Smells of flagellation

But you tell me
Over and over again my friend
You've just heaved up and on
The eve of hunt season

Just think of all the bait
In front and behind ya
Don't drag that deer to far
Remember your angina
You might leave here
For your secret place
But when back from lunch
Some bum's in your space
The eating of more tums
You howl when displaced
You should just stay in bed
And leave your gun in its case
And berate your fence sitt'n neighbor
But forget when face to face

But you tell me over and over again my friend
You're so aggrieved we're on
The eve of hunt season
Yeah, so relieved we're on
The end of hunt season