I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands.

Last night while I was out drinking, trying to have a good time.

The lady with whom I was speaking thought I was feeding her some old line.

When I spoke of a cold winter's morning, a duck blind and a river of gray.

The sound of the snow softly falling when I thought I heard somebody say,

I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands.



I could tell by the gaze of my comrades that I was the one who had spoke.

Their eyes held a message of patience, the thrill of the hunt and of hope.

But when I spoke again, how they listened for the wisdom of what I might say,

if the good Lord had meant us to shoot one he'd surely send more ducks our way.

I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands.



Well the lady with whom I was speaking, she laughed lightly and she wandered away.

My heart, like the snow in my story fell silent, I'd hoped she would stay.

It's so nice to talk to somebody, to find someone who's willing to share.

I know that this life is worth living but sometimes it just isn't fair,

I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands,

I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands.