Sasquatch, when you come over the mountain
I will be going the other way.
Big Foot, your foot is so big
they will have to send away special
to a mail-order house in Chicago
just to fit you for civilization.
When you come over the mountain
perhaps we will know our hairiest dreams of nature,
outlawed chickens come home to roost.
Won't "it" steal a white woman, rancher's wife,
and take her home to the gloomy inhuman glen?
Oh no, you only want to be alone left, unspoiled
in the wilderness, your furry ear listening to a rock
for the first sounds of love.
An introverted King Kong,
you only want to roam the mountain forests unmolested,
but man the spoiler, the naked ape,
seeks his mythic image a missing link.
Big Foot, if they should catch you
I would like to be the first to buy you
an extra large pair of bedroom slippers or galoshes.
Of course, the shoe salesman will shoot on sight.
This is a favorite poem of mine. It's been misprinted twice! Once in Prescott
St. Press. I loved Vi Gale, now deceased. However she didn't like the last
which read " the shoe salesman will shit or shoot on sight." I prefer this PG version.