I wear a paradox for clothes,
As soft as any kitten’s nose,
Yet tough as twenty buffaloes (as long as they don’t charge).
I made a bow, I tracked a deer,
I dried the meat for winter cheer,
I tanned the hide from tail to ear and made myself a shirt.
I’ve paid exactly what it cost,
No one exploited, no one bossed,
And no one’s habitat is lost, though mine is not too large.
Some think my smell is not so nice,
But life has got an earthy spice,
And though this sure ain’t paradise, I love my share of dirt.