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Coyot', Coyotee-ee-ee!
What have they done?
My brother, where
brother, where
where do you run?

They strychinined the mountains,
they strychinined the plains
brother, the coyote,
won't come back again,
won't come back again.

When you hear him singing,
the few that are left,
He's warning the human race
of his death, of his death.

Don't poison the mesas,
don't poison the sky,
Or you won't be back;
little brother,
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

There will be no one to listen,
and no one to sing,
And never ever be...
be spring...

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