The Land of The Free?

The hills gave way to prairie

As far as the eye could see

Undulating in the wind,

A vast organic sea.

 

The children of the prairie

Proud, stood tall and free

Shaman, in feathered robes

Proclaimed their destiny

 

Other hills on distant shores

Fade as the sails unfurled

Whilst Pilgrims on the decks below

Dream of the dark New World.

 

No Shaman here to cast the stones

Or dream the dreams of life

Just simple men and women folk

With faith in God and life!

 

Years pass, in peace and war

Greed, at the very core.

For the Children of the Prairie

Their home would be no more!

 

Gold, silver, iron ore.

The shout was always more.

The heroes of the comic books

Were rotten to the core!

 

Grasslands of the Prairie

stained with proud red blood

Could not withstand the flow

Of the great white tidal flood!

 

Genocide – De Rigueur

But proud men would not flee!

Atrocities, they would occur

One such at Wounded Knee!

 

Cowards hid in mists of dawn

Awaiting the bloody command

Then fell upon the sleeping throng

And blood festooned the land!

 

 

Dreams gave way to screams,

They tried, but could not flee!

Poor mothers and their children

Killed at Wounded Knee!

 

Years have passed, proud men have gone,

Banished from the great prairie

And does the irony lay heavy

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