Now I'm an old school kinda guy
Who's fond of steel and wood
But plastic is the thing today
And that's all well and good

But somehow it ain't got the class
Of a fabled gun of old
One that can poke you in the ass
With steel that's sharp and cold

A gun that makes you pick your shots
Just five rounds in the mag
But five rounds that are really hot
Fired under many flags

Built up near the dang North Pole
Built to last and serve
You poke your head up from that hole
If you have the nerve

But let me warn you if you do
It might be your last time
Cause I got me a Mosin here
And it works just fine
Ode to the 3 Line Rifle