There was a little Indian,as brave as brave could be. Who lived in a teepee,among the Cherokee. He wore a feather in his hair,he also had a little bow. But he was not allowed upon the plains. With the other braves. To hunt the Buffalo. He learned how to carve a totem,how to build a birch canoe. Make the straightest of arrows. Smoke signals too But still he could not go,upon the plains. With the other Braves. To hunt the Buffalo He learned to ride a pony,and to shoot a bow. Follow a trail,whoop and yell But still he could not go. Upon the plains. With the other Braves. and hunt the Buffalo. Then one day,his Father said to him. Son you are a man. And you have learned all the ways. Of the clever Indian. Now i think that you are ready. And it is time for you to go. Upon the plains. With the other Braves. To hunt the Buffalo. There is a clever brave Indian. Who lives with the Cherokee. Who with the other Braves,does go. Upon the plains. To hunt the Buffalo. For my Son Cavan Copyright useless poet 2006 .
