A way out on the windswept desert
Where nature favors no man
A buffalo found his brother
Lying naked on the sun baked sand
He said, “My brother what ails you?
Has sickness made you this way?”
His brother never said
Cause his brother was dead
He’d been dead since way last May
Big Chief Buffalo Nickel
Was a mighty man in his day
He never used a sickle
To clear the bushes away
He roamed around from tent to tent
Heed everything in sight
He loved his squaw, everyone he saw
He loved a new one every night
A way out on the windswept desert
I heard a big Indian moan
I left my tent, cause I knew what it meant
I swore I nevermore would roam
It was dawn when I reached Saint Pete
My legs were certainly sore
I must have lost fifty pounds
On that hot desert ground
And I’d lose that many more
Big Chief Buffalo Nickel
Was a mighty man in his day
He never used a sickle
To clear the bushes away
He roamed around from tent to tent
Heed everything in sight
He loved his squaw, everyone he saw
He loved a new one every night