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.

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...