Its been forty-five days since the snows have begun I stare at the fire and long for the sun As the bitter winds blow through the mouth of the pass I sit here and dream of the Buffalo grass
The ponies are shaggy; their coats have grown long With heads down, they huddle together as one At the window my breath forms a mist on the glass As I patiently wait for the Buffalo grass
The Seasons still turn And the prairies still yearn For those who were here long ago The Sioux have all gone and the Bison moved on Soon, I will follow them home
Mollie passed in September and left me alone Now my heart is as heavy and round as a stone Too many years have gone by too fast And I long for the feel of the Buffalo grass
The animals sleep while the world holds it’s breath The woods are as still and as silent as death When the mountain streams flow, spring will follow at last And the wind will blow free through the Buffalo grass
The Seasons still turn And the prairies still yearn For those who were here long ago The Sioux have all gone and the Bison moved on Soon, I will follow them home
The geese will return, a symbol of change The elk will be foraging out on the range Once again nature’s palette will color the pass And I will find peace in the Buffalo grass Yes, I will find peace in the Buffalo grass.