camp out house poets(or related hunting jokes)

Three Yoopers are sitting around their deer camp drinking beer, eating venison sausage and having a good-old time when one of the guys suddenly grasps his own throat with both of his hands. Obviously choking, his buddies ask him if he can talk, to which he vigorously shakes his head, "No." They then ask him if he can breath and he again shakes his head to indicate, "No." They then ask him if he's choking and he nods his now head up and down but is already turning blue. With that admission, one of the UP-ers grabs the choking victim, pulls down his pants and starts licking his bare ass. Being extremely shocked by this action, the victim coughs up the chunk of sausage and is saved. The rescuer then proudly proclaims, "That Hind-Lick maneuver works every time."
 
Here i sit broken hearted, paid my dime and only farted, next time ill take my chance, save my dime and #### my pants

"Hands off your cocks, put on your socks, theres hunting to be done" My dads favorite when we were in the cabin during hunting season

RIP Dad 1943-2002
 
A little bird with a yellow bill, sat upon my window sill, I enticed it in with a piece of bread, then I crushed it's fu--king head.
 
ryan robert said:
Here i sit broken hearted, paid my dime and only farted, next time ill take my chance, save my dime and s**t my pants

"Hands off your cocks, put on your socks, theres hunting to be done" My dads favorite when we were in the cabin during hunting season

RIP Dad 1943-2002

My uncle says the same thing. Just about.

"Hands off your cocks and put on your socks. It's daylight in the swamp!"

Dave.
 
A father and his young son were in the forest hunting rabbits. After hunting for a while they finally came across some rabbit tracks in the snow. Among the tracks there were these little round brown pellets and the son said to his father, "Dad, what are those?" The father replied, "Those are smart pills. Try a couple." So the kid grabbed a couple of them and put them in his mouth. The boy made a funny face and said to his dad, "Ewww! Yuk! They taste like crap." The father replied, "See, you're getting smarter already."
 
THE OUTHOUSE




The service station trade was slow
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick
Piled shavings on the ground.


No modern facilities had they,
The log across the hill
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill.


"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.


With quickened step she entered there
But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake
Or spider might be in it.


With startled look and beet-red face
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car
Just like three gals before.


She missed the foot log -- jumped the stream
The owner gave a shout,
As her silk stockings, down at her knees
Caught on a sassafras sprout.


She tripped and fell -- got up, and then
In obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.


Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.


A speaking system he'd devised,
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
Beneath the toilet seat.


He'd wait until the gals got set
And then the devilish tyke
Would stop his whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.


And as she sat, a voice below

Struck terror, fright and fear,
"Will you please use the other hole,
We're painting under here ."
 
triton said:
My uncle says the same thing. Just about.

"Hands off your cocks and put on your socks. It's daylight in the swamp!"

Dave.
It goes 'let go a your cocks and grab your socks it's daylight in the swamp'
It dates from Canadian Military Barracks, WWII era.

My uncle used it pretty much daily at our camp. (Once I got HIM out of the sack)

He also liked 'If you know any ladies that want any babies just send 'em up to me, just send 'em up to me'. He'd sing that while having his morning wash. I presume that also dated from his time in the artillery in Italy.
 
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A deer hunter was driving home from camp over the Mackinac Bridge at 45 mph, when a cop passed by him from the opposite direction clocking him with his radar gun. After the cop spun a U-turn and signaled, the hunter pulled over and the cop walked up to the window and said, "You know how fast you were going, BOY?" The hunter knew he hadn't been speeding and said, "45 mph." "I'm afraid not, 90 mph BOY! 90 mph in a 45 zone!" When the hunter protested, the cop just ignored him and continued, in his normal charming fashion, "That's speeding BOY, and you're getting a ticket and a big fine, might even loose your license!" He chuckled. The Cop took a good look at the hunter and said, "You're certainly a grubby looking bum. I bet you don't even have a job! I've never seen anyone so scruffy in my entire life!" The hunter answered, "I've got a job! I have a good, a well paying job!" The cop leaned in the window, and with the smell of day old donuts on his breath, said, "What kind of a job would a bum like you have?" "I'm a rectum stretcher!" replied the hunter. "What you say, BOY?" asked the patrolman. "I'm a rectum stretcher!" Of course the cop asked sarcastically, "And what does a rectum stretcher do?" The hunter explained, "People call me up and say they want to be stretched, so I go over there and start with a couple of fingers, then a couple more, and then one whole hand, then two. Then I pull them farther and farther apart until it's six feet across." The cop, absorbed with the images in his mind, let down his guard and asked, "What the hell do people do with a six foot #######?" The hunter nonchalantly commented, "They give them a radar detector and stick them at the end of a bridge."
 
I think this is a recollection from my days in a logging camp on the west coast of 'the' island;
Those who write on s**thouse walls
Should roll their s**t in little balls
And those that read this s**thouse wit
Should eat those little balls of s**t.;)
 
The guys were all at deer camp. They had to bunk two to a room. No
one wanted to room with Daryl because he snored so badly. They
decided it wasn't fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time,
sothey voted to take turns.

The first guy slept with Daryl and comes to breakfast the next
morningwith his hair a mess and his eyes all bloodshot. They said,
"Man, what happened to you?" He said, "Daryl snored so loudly, I just
sat up and watched him all night."

The next night it was a different guy's turn. In the morning,
same thing--hair all standing up, eyes all bloodshot. They said,
"Man, what happened to you? You look awful!" He said, "Man, that Daryl
shakes the roof. I watched him all night."

The third night was Frank's turn. Frank was a big burly ex-football
player; a man's man. The next morning he came to breakfast bright
eyed and bushy tailed. "Good morning," he said.

They couldn't believe it! He looked rested and wide awake.
They asked, Man, what happened?"

He said, "Well, we got ready for bed. I went and tucked Daryl
into bed, patted his ass and kissed him good night. Daryl sat up and
watched me all night ." :eek: :D
 
True Story...

My friend and his brother went to Algonquin in the spring to do some fishing. Late afternoon they found their assigned camp site. My Friend, lets call him Harry cause thats really his name, went about to set up camp. His brother, lets call him Bob cause I cant remember his name, happily helped set up the camp. Well, after a long day of canoeing, Bob decide to unpack extra baggage he had been carrying all day. Harry said;'Go ahead I'll start the fire'. Only a short time after Bob had left, Harry heard a blood curdling scream. Thinking that there might have been a bear, Harry took off in the direction off the yells. Harry rounded a point on the island on the way to the "treasure chest", only do find his bother in the bone chilling waters of the Algonquin waters. Not only was he in the water but he was throwing up with no sign of stopping. After Bob stop u-king and Harry had a chance to settle him down and get him out of the water, Harry learnt of what befell his brother on the way to the out-house. Apparently, the previous tennant was a prankster and decided to move the throne from the honey hole and locate it just behind it. He further went thru extra effort in desguising the hole so no one would see it. Well I guess Bob had approached the throne in a great hurry and not noticed the trap the prankster had set for him. (hold on here it comes). Meaning to set his foot down extra hard before the throne, to make an abrupt turn, Bob felt himself plunge deep into the honey hole. After a few seconds, he realized the enormity of what befell him. At this point is where he screamed and started u-king. Still u-king he ran into the fridgid waters to wash off the feces. And that is where Harry found him and the story ends.

True story.
Every word!!!!!
:puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke:
 
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The Little House Out Back

The Little House Out Back
"No Smoking Please"

One of my bygone recollections,
As I recall the days of yore
Is the little house, behind the house,
With the crescent over the door.
'Twas a place to sit and ponder
With your head bowed down low;
Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
If you didn't have to go.

Ours was a three-holer,
With a size for every one.
You left there feeling better,
After your usual job was done.
You had to make these frequent trips
Whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
To the little house where you usually
Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.

Oft times in dead of winter,
The seat was covered with snow.
Twas then with much reluctance,
To the little house you'd go.
With a swish you'd clear the seat,
Bend low, with dreadful fear
You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth
As you settled on your rear.

I recall the day Granddad,
Who stayed with us one summer,
Made a trip to the shanty
Which proved to be a hummer.
'Twas the same day my Dad
Finished painting the kitchen green.
He'd just cleaned up the mess he's made
With rags and gasoline.

He tossed the rags in the shanty hole
And went on his usual way
Not knowing that by doing so
He would eventually rue the day.
Now Granddad had an urgent call,
I never will forget!
This trip he made to the little house
Lingers in my memory yet.

He sat down on the shanty seat,
With both feet on the floor.
Then filled his pipe with tobacco
And struck a match on the outhouse door.
After the Tobacco began to glow,
He slowly raised his rear:
Tossed the flaming match in the open hole,
With not a sign of fear.

The Blast that followed, I am sure
Was heard for miles around;
And there was poor ol' Granddad
Just sitting on the ground.
The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth,
His suspenders he held tight;
The celebrated three-holer
Was blown clear out of sight.

When we asked him what had happened,
His answer I'll never forget.
He thought it must be something
That he had recently et!
Next day we had a new one
Which my Dad built with ease.
With a sign on the entrance door
Which read: No Smoking, Please!

Now that's the end of the story,
With memories of long ago,
Of the little house, behind the house
Where we went cause we had to go!

Author unknown
 
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