Well I left Boston one sunny day about a quarter to ten
Didn’t know where I should go, wish I knew much more back then
I caught the greyhound goin’ west, I pulled my hat down low
Closed my eyes and when I woke up, there was snow on my window
I asked the driver “Where are we, man?” thinkin’ he should know
I reached down in, pulled my pockets out, there was nothin’ much to show
He just frowned, ushered me out and said ‘The streets of Buffalo”
Well the wind up there will blow straight through your body and your soul
I found shelter in an alley downtown underneath a cardboard box
Shivered all night, I could barely feel the toes within my socks
When mornin’ came I made up my mind to get out of Buffalo
I hitched a ride to Orchard Park where they was puttin’ on a show
Buffalo Bills they called themselves, I had seen them on TV
A history of passionate fans, now one of them was me
I snuck in behind a vendor cart, found my way out to the stands
Fans were stompin’ on the metal floor, they had mittens on their hands
Nearly got my eye poked out by a hat with pointed horns
I was lucky just to find a place to sit and watch the show
The big ‘ol man I sat beside introduced himself as Joe
I joked “Is that Cribbs or Ferguson?”, he said “DeLamielleure”
As gregarious and humble as any man I’d ever known
He told me of his playin’ days, of the hall of fame, and more
They won the game, the crowd went wild, the rest you don’t need to know
But I’ll never forget those frozen stands where I met Buffalo Joe
Buffalo Joe stood six foot three with muscles made of brick
Pavin’ the way for running backs, he’d bore holes three feet thick
With McKenzie on the other side they weighed half a thousand pounds
Shove ‘em back now Buffalo Joe, pathways for touchdowns
Go, go, Buffalo Joe, the perennial All-Pro
Number sixty-eight on his jersey, the number one guy I know
Go, go, Buffalo Joe, I’d like to thank you man
For bein’ kind, I hope you know I’ll always be a fan
By Royce Waxenfelter
6/2/23
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