Paul E. Compton

(Neosho Falls, Kansas)

Legend Of John Hatamoy (Ho-Tah-Moy)

Poem by Paul E. Compton

In the hills of Oklahoma, a legend has been told,
Of an Osage Indian, his body still and cold
He had a rare disease called sleeping sickness
They found him in a black- jack thickets.

The Medicine-man looked at John, then said,
I'm sorry Chief, this man is dead.
They carried him to the burial grounds
Sat him up, piled some rocks around.

A few days later they received a shock,
For into camp, John did walk
Can you imagine the great surprise,
When John appeared before their eyes?

After this happened three or four times.
The Indians were about to lose their minds.
Finally they buried him six foot under.
Was he dead, don't it make you wonder?

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Read poems about / on: sorry, lost, sleep

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003