Bound snugly, in his fur lined bed,
Mother sings softly, by his head.
Son of the prairie, you were born,
in summer, on a quiet morn.
Your mother's love, your father's joy,
Great Spirit, bless. our new born boy.
Like your father, you will ride,
across the prairie, wild and wide.
With eye of the eagle, you'll find the pray,
With feathered arrow, you will slay.
The mighty buffalo, will fall,
Alone you'll hear, the coyotes call.
Buffalo means, there's food to eat,
you'll place it, at your mother's feet. |
