To the Coyote.
Frank Bird Linderman. Bunch-Grass and Blue-Joint, 1921.
I’ve weakened some, an’ wonder how
Ye live on airth that’s ditched an’ fenced,
An’ lately, somehow, I’ve commenced
To like ye.
I uster think ye devil’s spawn,
But dang it, all my hate is gone.
I watch ye prowl an’ win yer bets
Agin the traps a nester sets
To ketch ye.
Once I practised ornery traits,
An’ tempted ye with p’isoned baits;
But if ye’d trust me, an’ forgit,
I’d make the play all even yit,
An’ feed ye.
It took a time for me to see
What’s gittin’ you has landed me:
Yer tribe, like mine, is gittin’ few—
So let’s forgit; an’ here’s to you,
If I could, I’d turn the days
Back to wilder border ways;
Then we’d make our treaty strong,
An’ try our best to git along,