THE red man ranged the forests—hunted game, And, when the sport of hunting grew too tame, Took to the war-path—slaughtered left and right, Killed folks by day and hit the trail by night. He was one tough performer—plenty bad— A vicious savage—but what fun he had! To-day, the red man leaves his native plain, Gives up his horse, and boards a railroad train— He goes to college, where he learns to speak The finest English—Latin, too, and Greek— But, best of all, the red man learns to play The game of football, in a vigorous way! He's just as savage as he used to be— If you don't think so, tackle him, and see— He doesn't take your scalp—oh no! Instead He tumbles you and falls upon your head. He roves no more with tomahawk and gun— He's civilized, but he has lots of fun! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIFE A-LOST by WILLIAM BARNES BEPPO: A VENETIAN STORY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 23 by THOMAS CAMPION THE GRASSHOPPER; TO MY NOBLE FRIEND MR. CHARLES COTTON by RICHARD LOVELACE THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S HESITATION by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS CONCLUDING VERSES, AFTER RETURNING HOME FROM AN AUTUMNAL MORNING WALK by BERNARD BARTON SILVIO'S COMPLAINT: A SONG, TO A FINE SCOTCH TUNE by APHRA BEHN |