In the heart of Colorado's grand divide, A creature of lore and magic does reside. The Bufficorn they're named, quite rare indeed, Nestled high in the Rockies, they take their lead.

Once endangered, now they're on the rise, A testament to nature's beautiful surprise. First glimpsed in the eighteen hundred and fifties, By a silver prospector midst the snowy cities.

A vision he claimed of a "pink sparkling mass," Bathed in brown fur, a wonder unsurpassed. Casper Bunyan, the prospector of fame, Was entranced by the sight, forever changed.

Today the Bufficorn remains legend and myth, In the Rocky Mountain folklore, it coexists. A mystical offspring of bison and unicorn, A princely pact, in the Protocolis war it was born.

Perched above the timberline, high they dwell, In thin air, their magic begins to swell. They've wings to fly, in the sky they perform, A spectacle of aeralis Bufficorn.

Among them, the Spork Marmot does reside, With their sporks, in superior utility, they confide. After the war, they formed a unique pact, With the Bufficorn, their wisdom they've intact.

Wisdom relayed by the Mountain Bluebird's song, To the ears of mankind, it does belong. The Bufficorn guards the Marmot, in alliance, While the Marmot gives the Bufficorn a voice, in defiance.

Once a year, a celebration takes place, In Colorado's capital, they gather with grace. The stir of the Twiterpalious, the Marmot's chatter, And the Bufficorn's cry, no other sound matters.

"Buiiiiidl!" echoes through the heartland vast, A salute to the present, the future, and the past. The Bufficorn, the Marmot, together they thrive, In the rugged Rockies, their stories alive.