The Buffalo

While grazin' quietly a man I see

so I watch him, as he watches me

the question bein' who's gonna flee!

I guess he will 'cuz I'm that big

but I can't stand his feathered wig.

So I'll just blow me, lots of snot

and watch his pony spook a lot

Well!

it bucks to the West, lands in the East

for I the buffalo, am a mighty beast.

Brown and hairy, but do I care

these northern plains, I will not share

but!

go young Indian do not fear

as your painted pony starts to rear.

I shall let you live to tell the tale

brave young Warrior who's face is pale

as the sunset fades over mountains yonder

I can't help but to look and wonder

why the painted pony stands quiet and proud

beneath western skies without a cloud

but then I see,

in the Warrior's eyes, sad tears have filled

for I the buffalo, shall be killed.

                          Mary Ann Pont