In the drought back in the fifties, 

those things were everywhere. 

Don’t know if they’re really rabbits, 

or, maybe, a kind of hare.

They’ve got fuzzy gray-brown fur 

and a pair of donkey ears. 

Used to see bunches every day, 

but I ain’t seen one in years.

They remind you of a kangaroo, 

the way those critters hop, 

and they were shore a terrible pest. They’d eat an entire crop.

We couldn’t even thin ’em out. 

Folks shot ’em every day. 

They’d feed ’em to their hogs or dogs, but usually left ’em lay.

And, I remember those big rabbit drives held all around the state. 

They’d drive ’em in to big net pens. Rabbit chili was their fate.

They thinned out in the seventies, 

and now they’re nearly gone. 

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Don’t know if they started dyin’ off 

or picked up and just moved on.

Other critters made a comeback. 

Their numbers grow by leaps and bounds. 

But jackrabbits are gettin’ scarcer on these former stompin’ grounds.

I think our climate’s different, 

’cause now we get more rains. 

Maybe they didn’t like wet feet, 

and, so, they left these plains.

In a way I kinda miss ’em 

now that they’re no longer here. 

Don’t like to see any critter 

just plumb up and disappear.

But someday in the future, 

that southwest wind will blow. 

The rains will quit, and the dust will drift 

just like the winter’s snow.

It’ll last for near a decade. 

The earth will dry and crack, 

and that’s when I’m a bettin’ 

those varmits will be back.

Editor’s note: Joe Kreger writes from his home in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. His CDs are available from the Journal by calling 1-800-954-5263. For personal appearance information, call 1-816-550-6549.