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.
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