
Western Song: Last Wild White Buffalo
Western Writers of America included The Last Wild White Buffalo in their list of Top 100 Western Songs of all time.
The Last Wild White Buffalo is a story song that won the first-ever Spur Award for Best Western Song. The Last Comanche Moon and The Old Cantina were the two other songs of Blakely that were chosen to be included in the Top 100 Western songs of all time.
Table of Contents
About Mike Blakely
Since 1993, Blakely has been writing Western fiction. Around eighteen of his novels are currently in print. Willie Nelson and Kenny Rogers are co-writers for the two novels of Blakley.
Summer of Pearls won the 2000 Spur Award for Best Western Novel from Western Writers of America, and two others were nominated for the award. Four of his novels consist of an untitled Western legend have been compared to Louis L’Amour’s work.
As a performer, Mike Blakely has traveled extensively with himself and his band and has made 16 tours in Europe. He usually performs at festivals, house concerts, and private parties, most of them in Texas. He holds monthly concerts on his farm near Llano and has released eleven CDs on his label that features most of his songs.
Artists Who Recorded The Songs of Blakely
Blakely’s songs have also been recorded by artists such as:
- Johnny Bush
- Flaco Jiménez
- Raul Malo
- Gary P. Nunn
- Johnny Rodriguez
- Red Steagall
Listen to Last Wild White Buffalo (Mike Blakely Version)
Last Wild White Buffalo Lyrics
I fled that Mason-Dixon feud with everything that I'd accrued and wandered I'd been told of Denver gold and my soul I sold for passage way out yonder Ah, but I was never meant for pannin' dust and threw my trust into a band of jolly hunters bound for buffalo or bust We killed the meat to feed the hungry miners for the wages that we'd squander. I learned to hold a skinnin' knife just like I'd held one my whole life and then some And I'll admit I smelled a bit like blood and guts and sweat each time I skinned one But then the market changed from meat to hides and we went down to Texas where the wild Comanches and the Kiowa abide. And I saved my bucks and bought a Sharps Big Fifty and I hired two men to skin some. Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make way for the longhorn the field corn and the town born For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow and arrow of the Indian Finally here I am — Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I see him in my sights, I've got him dead to rights, I've dreamed of this at night, He's the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo. And it was northward to the Northern Herd some hunters up here spread the word of fortune We fought the Blackfeet and the Sioux and of buffalo we slew more than our portion Then just this mornin' I awoke before the dawn and rowed my boat and saddled up old Three Socks rode and staked him in the rimrocks, and I crawled out on the ledge to find the rarest of the breed, the pure white bison. Yeah, I had heard the stories of the few who won the glories when they shot one That albino hide's so rare it's only fair you'd pay a thousand if you bought one That white hide tanned by Indian's hand is sacred but to white men it's a trophy, nothin' more, and I can feel my legend soar, for of fame and riches I have none, but I believe it's high time that I got some. Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make way for the longhorn the field corn and the town born For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow and arrow of the Indian Finally here I am — Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I see him in my sights, I've got him dead to rights, I've dreamed of this at night, He's the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo. Now the hair is standin' on my neck and I feel as if some reckoning has found me. Is that white bull really real or just the ghost of evil deals come back to hound me? For I have fought the red men and deprived them of the meat I let spoil now I hear voices as my trigger finger coils, and I hesitate to fire 'cause I feel the Indian spirits all around me. So I ease up on the trigger and I wait for someone bigger to decide. And I hear the Great Creator whisper "Wait before you kill him just for pride." So I wait. Then I see the Sioux come chargin' down the hill to kill that sacred buffalo with arrow straight and true, and I know now if I had fired it would have been their knives skinnin' me of my own white hide. Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make way for the longhorns field corn the town born. For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow and arrow of the Indians Finally here I am — Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I saw him in my sights, I had him dead to rights, I've dreamed of it at night, He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo. So I leave the Indians sayin' prayers and thanks to stayin' mighty low I'm hidin' I slip back up the rimrock, cinch up old Three Socks and steady now I'm ridin' And I know down in my heart now all my huntin' days are past, I may have killed more than my share, but I will not kill the last, and I beg the Lord's sweet mercy for the breath of life still in my lungs abidin'. As I ride off on my sorrel it ain't hard to find the moral of my story — Yeah a man who takes what's sacred from another ain't no brother bound for glory And a man who kills for thrill or just for money in the till had better heed the Spirit voices on his downhill trail to hell, and I must repent for years I spent addin' to the hideyard inventory Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make way for the greenhorn the sweet corn and the tinhorns For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow and arrow of the Indians Finally here I am — Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I saw him in my sights, I had him dead to rights, I'll dream of it tonight, He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo. Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I had him in my sights, I had him dead to rights, and I'll dream of it tonight He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo Oh, the last livin' ever lovin' wild white buffalo...