Bill and I were out hunting deer,
A way up on the far hillside,
When old Bill had a heart attack
And that is how my old friend died.

My hunting really had been good.
I’d killed a great big ten point buck
And then old Bill just up and died.
Now isn’t that my kind of luck?

I drug my big buck back to camp
And showed it to the boys with pride.
Then I told them about poor Bill
And just how my old friend had died.

They said, “You hauled that big deer back
And left your friend up on the hill?”
I said, “Sure I brought my deer back
Ain’t nobody gonna steal old Bill!”