Luck may be with you to spy,
If such you do deserve.
The gentle giants of the wild,
Stay still, don’t lose your nerve.
They move with grace and elegance,
Unfitting of their size.
Their matted hair, enormous feet,
And haunting human eyes.
Some rather would avoid them,
Believing they are cursed.
To see them is to foretell doom,
If you don’t smell them first.
Such people are not meant to know,
Their kind and peaceful ways.
The forest folk protect the woods,
From evil with their gaze.
Most of us will never know,
If they are even there.
It’s not our fault, just the result,
Of those who do not care.
And that’s the way they want to stay,
A mystery in time.
While hunters of the bigfoot folk,
Charge more than just a dime.