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The Hundred Acre Woods
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Coyote Bones
I heard you found coyote bones again.
Take me to his resting place, my friend.
We'll throw a funeral for him,
And for all his animal friends
His friends said he was murdered for his pelt.
By a man in a mustache from the South.
He had a cigarette in his hand,
With his back turned to the hurricane's winds.
And the coyote's family said,
He was a hunter and a gatherer and a father and a friend.
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And a good one at that,
And the leader of the pack.
Said that this coyote will never come back.
But may he rest in peace,
From this desert heat.
And the coyote was somewhere else,
Looking down on this desert town.
He let out his howl . . .
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