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Oh, winged buffalo,
It is with great morbidity
And also humility
That I feast tonight.

Your wings
Flightless in life
Tasty, in death
I buy for thirty cents each on Tuesdays.  

You are a hero in the animal kingdom
Ever teased
Wings, useless as horns would be
On a chicken. 

The buffalo god,
My friend has forsaken thee
Doomed you to a life with the grass
But wings of a bird. 

Your bloody stumps pain you,
I know.
You cry out in the even
Why, why do I deserve this life so foul? 

Your wings,
My friend will not grow back
And may not be returned to you
As they lie in a puddle of Caribbean Jerk sauce in my maw. 

Your sacrifice
Is not unappreciated!
Generations unknown will wax
And sing of your courage and love.  

So cry not, once winged beast of the field
For all is not grim
I have eaten the wings from you and five score of your bretheren
And I have wept from joy. 

Your stubby wings
Bring happiness unrefined
To all mankind
And go great with Pabst.