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Native People's Testament


Lands that were once ours and for all who desired to come,

The most beautiful of Mother Earth, from heaven, was from.

Place of our birth, roots of our cultures, grand benevolence,

As now we sit in a given space, all are so sad, in the silence.

Long ago, seems so far away, the times of our fine existence,

When all could count on the earth to provide, with persistence.

Native humanity flourished so well, were happy in their place,

Now men came from across the sea, robbed us all, a disgrace.


We pulled down our tee-pees, homes we hoped to remain,

They pushed us, moved us to ends of our lands, all in pain.

We were each robbed of a beauty, that was once to be free,

Now left with no shelter, our buffalo gone, were made to flee.

All were forced to walk on a trail of many tears, was in shame,

So many did perish in this sad last march, ours without blame.

A few who remained, able to survive, thrown in jails in the end,

Given little to eat, or warmth at night, no compassion did send.


At Jackson's command, in 1830, and for twenty years more,

The beloved lands, of our births, taken, no longer as before.

Our people made to walk that trail, then placed in a stockade,

Ones who lived to languish in filth, their self-worth to degrade.

Now, more than one-hundred-fifty years have passed, to a day,

The lands that remain, over mountains to the plain, taken away.

Mighty oil barons rule the earth, our words only spoken in vain,

Despite the wrongs they commit, lands now unfit, in their reign.

My native roots may well grow from the Birdsongs, Cherokee Native people.

My native roots may well grow from the Birdsongs, Cherokee Native people.

Mother earth, now unhappy with these wrongs, to soon repay,

She will cleanse this soil, made filthy by a few, they did betray.

As the rains may come down, she'll then wash the greed away,

No longer will the evil forces us to rule, will be a better new day.

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