REDMAN'S LAMENT


The white-eyes have come to speak to me,

And we have sat 'round the council fire.

They spoke of things I have yet to see,

And peace was their only desire.

That the red and white would live as one,

In peace, and never in war;

That we'd bury the hatchet and bury the gun;

That wars would come no more.

But I see the wagon trains, sun to sun

And I see the buffalo die,

I see the dust of settlements begun

Rise to the smoky sky.

I see the red man treated like dirt,

And cheated in every trade,

And lashed and beaten with whip and quirt,

As I think of the treaty we made.

We sat in council; we had a smoke

From the peace pipe of our people,

With wise men there who came and spoke

For the white-eyes, and our people.

Tonight the braves are talking war

And the firewater goes to their head,

While the white-eyes sell them more and more;

And soon there will be many dead.

Though we cannot win and we cannot lose,

And we cannot accept the blame,

We cannot accept the white-eye's abuse;

We were here before they came!

They speak of honor as we have known,

And we would accept the terms,

But they think honor is theirs alone

And the word of the red man spurns.

On the ladder of life there are many rungs

And each is a step on the way,

For those who speak with fork-ed tongues

Death is the only way.

So, many a squaw will weep tonight,

And many a brave will die,

For all of the braves are hunting the white

For the scalp of a hateful white-eye.

And sadness fills me, for the one who came

Meant every word that he said.

I'll seek the Great Spirit in that one's name,

For tomorrow he'll lie with the dead.

The great white father in Washington

Is concerned that he does just right,

But they will not follow the setting sun

To the scene of the coming fight.

They will say that we broke the treaty -

But our spirit's been broken, instead.

The scene of conflict will not be pretty

When they count those mourning, and dead.

Perhaps, someday, I may smoke again

With the white-eyed brave I found,

When we are set free of earthly pain

In the Happy Hunting Ground.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Shekhina Canyon - copr. 1989

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