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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Long before the ships arrived Bringing European man, America’s native people Dwelt here and loved this land. Great Spirit was the name they had For the God that nurtured them, They asked his blessings invoked his name And sent their dead to him. They organized in time of need To give them strength of numbers, Co-operation between the tribes Often numbered in the hundreds. The concept of nations was known to them And today you can see it still, As the bundle of arrows in the Eagle’s claw On our country's dollar bills. Their numbers greatly were reduced By foreign plagues they couldn’t fight. Then they got a bitter taste Of the white man’s technical might. Tribes died in droves as they fiercely strove To hold on to their land, But courage and pride could not decide The battle for the doomed red man. Exile or slaughter was their only choice In this unequal test of wills, Lush river camp and forest home Became rocky barren hills. Today they languish on reservations Where life is often bleak, But some do not accept despair Their pride they vow to keep. From a tortured past they have emerged, And are proud to teach their young Who they are and what it’s like To speak their native tongue. They haven’t lost all their history Enough survives today To see themselves as a people again, And put their culture on display. A nation healing and on the ascent With reason to be proud, As they don their dancing finery And show it to the crowd Then you should see them dance ! My stars it’s quite a sight, When they start to whoop and holler Your hair stands up in fright. Yes the tribes are back and I am glad We didn’t wipe them out, These original Americans Still have much to be proud about.
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