Lament for Lightning Medicine Cloud

Because.

Out on the prairie where short grasses grow
some men have killed a white buffalo.

Dead in a field where spring flowers blow
lies the butchered corpse of a white buffalo.

Out on the prairie where small rivers flow
Earth is weeping for a white buffalo.

Why did they do it? Who can know
why men would slaughter a white buffalo?

A cow and a calf were captured to go
to the place where they killed a white buffalo.

Tears in the wind and blood on the snow,
Sky is in mourning for a white buffalo.

There's scorn in the scorpion, contempt in the crow
for men who would murder a white buffalo.

Rustlers and thieves would never stoop so low,
it's blasphemers killed the white buffalo.

Autumn will come and summer will go
through the bleached bones of a white buffalo.

Winter will whistle and spring grasses grow
through the bleached bones of a white buffalo.

The wind it will reap and the rain it will sow
the land that gave birth to the white buffalo.

Prairies will shake off the plow and the hoe
under the hooves of the white buffalo.

The swans will outnumber the bison below,
ten million strong, the white buffalo.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside