Saturday, March 25, 2006

***** What Have We Done? *****
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By Beckie Clymo & Dean Trudell (my father)

Hear me, oh Red man, if you want to save your hide,
Because here you surely cannot abide.
Take your pagan customs with you, please do,
Get off the planet, I would if I were you.
Don't cherish the land in which you were born,
We already have your tobacco and corn.
Without your help, we wouldn't have survived,
But now that civilization has been revived.
A payment is do, we'll pay you in lead,
We won't sleep a moment, until you're dead.
An enemy like you, we can't understand,
We take and you give, and you hold out your hand.
A handshake with you, makes my stomach turn,
How come you're stupid, how come you don't learn?
I believe in the saying that somebody said,
The only good Indian, is one that is dead.
Our god hates a heathen, now this we all know,
If he doesn't change his ways, to hell he must go.
So, we help out our god, in all the ways we can,
We kill all the pagans, and take over their land.
The diseases we've fed them, are working too slow,
They don't hurt enugh, not nearly enough woe.
We'll make them all starve, show them how low we can go,
So, we killed and we killed to the last Buffalo,
Bison don't fight back, so we made a great show,
We cut out their tongues and we ripped off their skins.
But god will forgive us for all our sins,
If we pray every morning and also at night,
Our sins are forgiven, everything is alright.
So, the survivors were put on a reservation,
The last lost people, of a proud nation.
People shouldn't go down, with the setting sun,
America what in god's name, have you done?
America the beautiful, America the free,
You've lost something essential, as it could be.
From your highest Mountain, to your shining Sea,
There should be a part of what used to be.
Not the clutter of mankind, everywhere you look,
Why not give back a little of what you took.
Native Americans, are still here today,
But no body listens, to what they have to say.
They said it before, and they say it again,
You can't own the land, you don't own the rain.
So, why can't we learn from people who know,
They have only been here, twenty thousand years or so.
Could it be that they know this immense and great land,
Like you know your children, or the back of your hand.
Why haven't we learned from people so great,
We are here today, we leave what we take.
Be it Jungles of garbage, or polluted water,
The land still owns you, you're only a squatter.

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