I found this poem posted on a website I visit regularly and thought it was appropriate to share.
~ Here's to all hunters and our precious game. Here's to our sport may it always remain. And to our fine lives lived in wild lands, may aces and eights be our final hands. With our souls above when all is forgiven, through the gates we pass as we are no longer liven. May we be clear with our word when to St. Peter we say - I have but one request on my judgment day. It is beautiful up here, don't get me wrong, but I never was one for soft clouds and sweet song. You see, there is nothing in heaven to keep test to my mettle, so send me to hell so I can hunt for the devil ~