He was a little short man
A beard of grey and white
Walked with the kind of step
That made him larger than life
A reservation he did live
Ft Steuben was the name
40 years working with Boy Scouts
All the camp knew his name
He lived a special kind of life
That every man would sure enjoy
600 acres to do as he pleased
A few tractors and a Gator his toys
Every summer came the boys from far
To camp for about a week
They'd run, they'd learn and they'd play
Manhood, brotherhood and freindship did they seek
They all knew him by 1 name
'Fuzzy' is what they'd say
Cause he kept close tabs on everything
Good, bad and even dismay
The land, the lake, the trading post
Are only just a part
The days are long, the work is tough
But he does it all from his heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem