I lived in a tipi for two weeks with a bunch of Cheyenne indian kids in Montana. I did that two years in row. The first night of my first year I couldnt sleep because of all the ticks and creepie crawlies --now I'm country but even that "bugged" me. So I wrote this little thing while I was laying in the dark.
I cant close my eyes
Even though its late
Because of the fear of being ate
by that big brown spider crawling on Tonya's cheek
It keeps crawling on my face and I cant help but squeak.
I wish I could live a bugless life
Without all the worries, troubles and strife.
But I'll keep on itching though its hard to bare
Feeling like theres spiders in my underwear.
And the black chiggers get lonesome at night
So they come to the tent to make themselves feel alright.
You would think because its 30 degrees
All the bugs would stay nestled up in the trees.
But no they keep crawling without any rest
and scurry to make their buggy nests.
I can hear them now as they gather along
To scream and yell a battle cry song
They gather in stations and make straight lines
and march all together keeping the time
And one yells "Charge!" they begin to attack
And that's whats crawling all over my back.
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