Long time ago, when the west was young and free,

Buffalo herds roamed the plains as far as the eye could see.

Then progress came to stay and by the millions cut ‘em down,

Hides were packed for sale and skulls were piled upon the ground.

And mighty herds soon vanished from the land.


Chorus:
Well, say a prayer for the mountains so tall

As the long western winds come to blow.

For tomorrow, will they stand so proud at all

Or follow the way of the old buffalo.


Now many years have gone, times have come to change,

Automobiles roam the lands the buffalo herds did range.

And the chips all 'round are different now, they speed our lives along. (revised)

And we scour the earth for ways and means and keep things rolling on.

With scarce a thought to where it all will end.


Repeat Chorus:


And many clever companies and bales of dollar bills,

Are racing to the mountains with dynamite and drills.

And they say it’s for our country and claim it’s what we need,

And they always call it progress though many blame man’s greed,

As they work their ways across the mountain lands.


Repeat Chorus:


And when tomorrow’s winds have blown and days to come have gone,

Will monuments then mark the trails the pronghorn had run upon?

Will evergreens have given way to prime suburban lands?

Will wild flames and climate change have left unhealing brands?

As they work their ways across the mountain lands.


Repeat Chorus:


© M. Bressler