I saw lots of dust,
From the bus through South Dakota.
I was a passenger on my way to L.A.
I wish I took a train or a plane,
From Minnesota.
Instead I took my time,
And went the cheapest way!
Riding that seat on the bus,
Every bump my rump and the wheels
On that bus had found.
I couldn't stretch,
To lay my tired body down.
I looked around from the window,
And spotted a Caribou.
I stopped my cussing long enough,
To enjoy the view.
I felt a bit country!
As I started to hum a tune.
I thought of Mount Rushmore,
And Buffalo roaming plains!
I felt a bit country!
Thinking of things I'd do!
Like hiking and biking...
And skipping L.A. to see!
I saw lots of dust,
From the bus through South Dakota.
I was a passenger on my way to L.A.
I wish I took a train or a plane,
From Minnesota.
Instead I took my time,
And went the cheapest way!
And began feeling country.
With a native Indian mood.
Thinking of the tribes who survived,
The Wild Wild West!
I sat feeling country.
Changing up my attitude.
Imagining the Sioux...
And those rough times that they knew!
When I arrived in L.A.
I had forgotten I had wished I'd flew!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem