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.                                                                      Written by: Mary Ann Pont Special thanks to "Earl D. Roe, Sr." <earlroedblrbison@centuryinter.net> Please visit his "Double R Bison" homepage Please read the following article: Rebirth on the Great Plains