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A warrior by nature as summer grew in sultry heat,
I sweated with desire to count coup on the first foe I beat,
Swear by my breech clout I would grapple in hand to hand assault,
Toss and turn this Ute in mortal combat before I halt;

Or steal his associate to my ultra joy and his dread,
Add another feather to my cap seeking it shows red,
Along the Tipi fire I see a shadow stir the soup,
Keenly attempt to pull off a red color feather coup; 

Enter slyly to put my first feather to the systole,
In the confounded move I flounder to breath down her taught mole,
Duel precipitates in raw battle weary raptures,
Surrenders to roll within my bison hide captures;

Victorious I swell with sensuous pride and forget to scout,
No witness on sight says the chieftain with power he flouts,
Cheats as he sequesters her away from me in his clout
I am left with out my prize and the red feather he touts.

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