You join a hunt, you know your odds, nine times out of ten,
You'll come back safe, maybe sans loot, but back in safe haven.
What happens on the tenth run though? You kill or get beaten,
You carry home a trophy prized, or arrive in a coffin.
The rules of game are clear as day, you have no choice but to play,
The night is descending fast and quick, just pick you gear without delay
A bow and arrow to strike from far, or a spear that can kill the prey,
You've been starved for long, no time to lose, quickly join the fray.
We know you are weak, in body and spirit, and want to rest a while,
The prize has been sighted, so buckle up fast- you have to run another mile!
Not only for you, for your family and clan, don't let this go futile,
Bring home a catch that is big and bold, and let everyone bask and smile.
Risking all you've got, you pledge to give it all, now that its your turn,
But the reality of a ruin, and an uncle point, make you sheepishly return.