When January's slanting snow
Makes us dream of Mexico,
Saint Paul emerges from wintry sleep
To search for treasure buried deep.
Notice to every hunting batallion
We have hidden the Pioneer Press medallion.
"Where?" you ask in husky shout.
That's for us to know, and you to find out.
Turn off the tube! Leave your hovel!
Grab your walking stick and shovel.
Whether you be giant or runt,
The only way is to join the hunt.
For to the hunter belongs the spoil.
Hunt by day or midnight oil.
Hunt in boot and sturdy glove.
Hunt with pal or old true love.
For you who hunt each and every year,
We raise a lusty Saint Paul cheer.
Good Luck! And now, let us be blunt.
Get off thy duff and hunt, hunt, hunt!
Copyright 2006 Pioneer Press.