Hands Across Texas

Programs on Native Americans, Buffalo Soldiers, Cowboy Poetry, Ethnic Characters in Texas History, Dance, Music with Siyotanka and Harmonica, Storytelling, and Mountain Men

Monday, August 29, 2005

Poem One

MUDMAN


As a child I sit in a muddy street
playing in the mud that covers my feet

not ever knowing if I'd be slave or free
sitting there playing, my mudman and me

Off in the distance, there arose a sound
of fifty swift horses coming to town

Lifting up my little eyes in time to see
black men, looking like my mudman and me

They toted guns, with black hats on their heads
Folks in town running 'round like they're scared

My mudman and me we are as proud as a pup
'cause them black folks, they are one of us

I stood up with mudman in hand
and one saluted me, and gave me a big old grin

As they made their way through our little town
things disturbed sort of settled back down

I just stood there a while in that muddy street
with my mudman's family covering my feet

We were both feeling proud as a pup
'cause those black men were a part of us

They were Buffalo Soldiers