Shoot! Poem by Ima Ryma

I killed the turkey, so I thought.
It was lying still on the ground.
I went to pick it up and got
Into my leg a bullet round.
The turkey was alive and hit
My hand, causing my gun to shoot.
Then off into the woods ran it.
I was in no shape for pursuit
Just then the game warden drove up,
And I did tell him my sad tale.
Oh, he was sympathetic - yup,
But said I had to go to jail.

When I asked him for what reason,
He said hunting out of season.