Prairie Turkey

Long time ago in the old wild west A hunter raised his gun, he was a Round up cowboy, and shooting Was his fun He saw a fat wild turkey come runnin out the scrub, he thought of tasty vittals, and stomach full of grub The turkey turned towards him and fixed him with its glare, its proud red comb a hangin, before its neck so fair “Now mister I’ll admit, I am a tasty Lunch, but if you keep on shootin, You’ll prove my earnest hunch,” That soon the scrub and prairies, Where we so blithely roam, will Quit of fur and feather, where Buffalo did roam” So thoughtfully the hunter, shocked by what he’d seen, laid down his hunting rifle, with turkey’s eye agleam “Thank you Sir, you’ll not regret, the stowing of your gun, there’s food and grits aplenty, in store and salmon run.” Remember how the bison, were slaughtered For the train, and all them native Indian folk Who lost the wild woods game So keep your gun and bullets, defend your Simple home, and leave the prairie creatures To wander prairie home And if you see his finery, running wild By tree, remember he’s an emblem, of Open land so free.