Centuries before the white man’s selfish intrusion,
When bluegrass and cane mingled in endless confusion;
When wildlife ruled with a master hand supreme,
and the Red Man reveled in the Hunter’s dream;
There was one beloved enticing place,
Where bird and beast came their thirst to erase.
As the years rolled on thru eternity’s unclosed door,
Uncounted, save by the Red Man’s Moon Folk Lore;
Endless seasons uncounted came and unheralded went,
As the buffalo undisturbed lives placidly spent;
And to this beloved place in endless numbers came,
To mould for mankind it’s future historic name.
Uncounted herds of these nomadic beasts,
To the Bluegrass came for their summer’s feast;
Thru the wilderness a well trodden road blazing ,
as they came and went to their cherished grazing;
Which unmarred endured until by the white man found,
And where ruthless hand despoiled the Happy Hunting Ground.
This roadway gracefully wound over valley and wooded hill,
Beside flowing rivers, sparkling brooks and bubbling rills;
On and on from the far away uncharted Bear Grass land;
To the Bluegrass to where the Licking’s water ran;
Ordaining for the White Man a name that will long prevail,
Among future generations as Historic Buffalo Trail.
Beside this trail was an enticing, refreshing retreat,
Made historic by the treading of countless buffalo feet;
Where from mother earth’s bountiful unfailing breast,
Flowed a stream that ever soothed and blessed;
And when the hardy pioneer this beloved spot found,
He was constrained to name it the Buffalo Stamping Ground.
Again as countless years on the wings of time rode,
and from this beloved source untold blessings flowed;
Uncounted herds in ever increasing numbers came,
To foster on this enticing nectar and eternal name;
Of which mankind thru future years may proudly sing,
And justly proclaim the greatness of Old Buffalo Spring.
Squire Peyton Willis
Source: Echoes of the Past
Stamping Ground Women’s Club