I sat beneath a broken pine
With a shot gun, Buck knike and a draggin line
Been here now on seven hours
Hunting deer and cursing the powers
That put me under this broken tree
Waiting for a buck to see
When I know darn well none will come
Cause I been here hours and aint seen none
So I get my junk and head back to camp
I can see the guys inside by the lamp
"How'd ya do?" they ask, as I step inside
Well not to bad I quickly lied
I saw a big thirteen point buck
But wouldn't you know it'd be my luck
I couldn't get a shot off I say
cause there was too many little bucks in the way
My buddy Mike ask's if I'd mind
If tomorrow he sat under that broken pine
I hand him a beer, and say that would be fine
