Sportsman, as you find me lying
Rotting on this windswept shore,
Do not turn away denying
You and I have met before.

On that day (who now could tell it?)
Life was beautiful indeed
Till one wayward winging pellet
Struck and did its evil deed.

Paining first, then paralysing,
By day’s end it stilled my flight.
Death came next; slow agonizing
As I drowned alone that night.

Untold nights and days I drifted,
Head hung down in unfelt cold
Till my ugliness was lifted
To the spot you now behold.

Study me now! Macerated,
Gaping sockets in my skull;
Entrails bared and lacerated
By some starving, one-eyed gull.

Come now, sportsman! Late September,
Shortly after break of day.
I’m the duck you missed, remember?
The lucky one that got away.