First they came for Roseanne, and I said nothing.
Then they came for Mr. Potato Head. And I said nothing.
Now they’re coming for this beloved children’s book, and I say “no more”.
From 1977 – I DID NOT KNOW THAT BUFFALO
I did not know
Had such a varied history.
I did not know
Delighted with such mystery.
It was a place
Where Injuns faced
All manner of dangers and chance.
Not just the snow
Or local foe
But wankers coming in from France
And Beaver Wars
And white guys getting really lost.
At Fort Stanwix
Some major dicks
Wrote treaties with their fingers crossed.
Then came the Dutch
Who brokered much
And signed the Holland Land Purchase.
Rivers were mapped
The Irish napped
The Yanks and Brits had a skirmish.
In eight-teen hun-
The Germans joined this melting cup.
They brought good beer
And wings, I hear.
(I think. I didn’t look it up.)
Got really pissed
And then shot Bill, the president.
The market fell
And paved way for the decadent.
The fifties came;
Mostly the same
Up here by the northern border.
Not much Jim Crow;
The things here showed
Somewhat better kinds of order.
Now dim the lights!
Hold loved ones tight!
The time has come at last to tell.
Of lost glories:
Buffalo and the N.F.L.
Bruce Smith stalking out on the end.
Norwood. Crushing. NOT tre bien.
Sabres came close in ninety-nine.
Blue and Weck, and
Young kids neck, and
Chicks from Albright are mighty fine.
Orange doofus, dolls of Goo Goo.
Local author P.A.’s a poo-poo.
New Tim Hortons,
O J Simpson.
Spyro Gyra out by the bay
Rock and roll whores
And cola wars
What else do I still have to say?