The Campin' Man

I love campin' and do it as oft I can,
Some even call me the "campin' man",
The fresh air you breathe is relaxing, I've often thunk,
Unless, of course, it's saturated with the smell of skunk.

Ah, can beans, cooked over a fire, be beat,
With the gnats and flies providing the meat?
Or even a marshmallow toasted over a fire,
Burnt to a crisp and smelling like tire,

It's the life all right, the great outdoors,
With the dirt and mud providing the floors,
The mosquitoes buzzin' and the hornets swarmin',
It's like a painting of Americana, by Uncle Norman.

Even a rattlesnake on a trail can't deter me,
'cause I'm in the great outdoors, and I'm free,
On my fun nothing can put a damper,
I'm an outdoorsman, the original "happy camper."

Now, here I sit writin' poems by the ol' camplight,
Oops, it's startin' to rain hard and it's lightnin' bright,
So much for this outdoor nonsense, and I don't care who you tell,
But, I'm runnin' like a deer, to the nearest motel!