BUFFY

Sweet Little Vera
© Buffy Sainte-Marie

Hoo hoo Hoo hoo Hoo hoo

Sweet Little Vera You’ll know her when you hear her
Sweet little prancer Rocknroll dancer
Ha va va va va va

Sweet little Vera not yet sixteen
She da kine, a rocknroll machine
Sweet Little Vera You’ll know her when you hear her
Ha va va va va va

Sweet Little Vera You’ll know her when you hear her
Ha va va va va va
Sweet little sister Heaven must’ve kissed her
Ha va va va va va

She’s got a way that’s bound to please
She go up on her toes then down on her knees
Sweet Little Vera You’ll know her when you hear her
Ha va va va va va

Hoo hoo Ho hoo Hoo hoo

Star Boy
© Buffy Sainte-Marie

First time I saw your face
I knew the languages I knew
would never do for one like you: would they Baby?

Once a boy fell from a star
and he changed to who you are.
You didn’t know I knew it: did you Baby?

I went home and wrote a book
about the way you look,
or the way I see you.

I went home to dream a dream
about the way you seem,
though I don’t know you.

Instrumental

Once a boy fell from the sun
and he changed into someone
who I remember.

He was something like yourself.
He got left upon the shelf
cause no one dared.

First time I saw your face
I knew the languages I knew
would never do for one like you.

Baby Baby what do you say?
Do you think that there’s a way
for me to know you?

Instrumental

Generation
© Buffy Sainte-Marie

Kids were sent from heaven inside to lead you to the future
Wrap their eyes in blindfolds and still they’ll find their way
Blind their lives with pills and lies and still they find their vision
And soon they’ll leave you to your yesterday

And they’ll sing goodbye scars of history
And goodbye bankers’ trust
Aquarius is shining and the sun is one of us
And me I don’t wanna go to the moon
I’m gonna leave that moon alone
I just want to dance with the Rosebud Sioux this summer
Yes, yes, yes

The media is saturated but the sweetgrass still grows tall
And Jesse John Blackbear talks to God in Cleveland, O-hi-yo
And Washington is joking but the Navajos are not
And the Senecas just arrived in Arizona.

I talked to seven congressmen, their ears were filled with gold
That their grandfathers had stolen out of the Black Hills
But it really doesn’t matter ’cause their children hear me well
And they will dream the dream my Mother sends to them.