Native Americans call me 'Paleface'
'Roundeye' say the Chinese race
to a Scot I'm a 'Sassenach' 'Boyo' to those in Wales
altho' a 'Limey' in New York
I answer to none such hails
once a 'Gweilo' in Hong Kong Down Under was a 'Pom'
you may give a dog a bad name (and/or a bone)
he may even be your (best) 'Pal' don't think me fuddy-duddy
for what's more I have my limits and I'm not your (good) 'Buddy'
then a 'Rooinek' 'round Cape Town
'Farangi' was I in Dubai
and tho' no English rose was a 'Bloke' when there
as originally from Kenya when owned by Blighty
in some parts of the U.S.A. I'm now called 'Whitey'
'Haole' in Hawaii that's me and 'Gringo'
down south in Mexico
seems I'm all things to all men a man of many hats
altho' no they know me not
whether saint or sinner
you may call me what you will
but just not late for dinner
Where have all the bison gone
shot by Sharps shooters nearly every one
where have all the shooters gone
done away by Indians more than some
the red man revered the buffalo
of Manitou's abundance living proof
to the white who sent them
to the not-so-happy-hunting grounds
a gold mine on the hoof
the paleface ways in olden days long gone
were somewhat less than perfect
and should be frowned upon
to soldiers bison were target practice
indigenous people to quell
while hunters killed for the hides
by 1884 the Black Hills buffalo death knell
lies were spoken treaties broken
but revenge was none too soon at hand
Sioux Cheyenne Arapaho attacked
and briefly turned the tide
on what was their rightful land
beside the Little Bighorn
one frightful day at Custer's last stand
Whether the Indigenous People,
robed in leathers, head dressed in feathers,
who had their own sovereign nations,
wanted it or not,
June 2nd 1924,
U.S. President Calvin Coolidge
condescendingly signed the Snyder Act,
a.k.a., the Indian Citizenship Act, into law,
thereby conferring American citizenship
on American Indians.
He had it backwards,
it was no more than an affront
as, whether the Indigenous People
wanted them or not,
it was American Indians who,
altho' they made no claim to own Mother Earth,
should have conferred American citizenship
on the Paleface People,
who were mere trespassers on tribal territory.
And Woody Guthrie
(1912 – 1967),
another white man,
was not referring
to Native Americans
when he wrote,
'This land is your land.'
Pilgrims aboard the Mayflower
As sails made the most of the breeze
Longed to make home in a brave new land
Enduring the most vicious seas
Finally, anchored they ‘trod’ Plymouth rock
And not one was in a bikini
Conflict with locals would rage on and on
Eventually there would be Chablis
Someone seemed to have invented a whiter shade of pale,
there was a mindset - I won't do it in case I might fail;
the paleface thought he was smarter than the natives,
and bathed in the prospect of being given superlatives.
Mr. Kipling said that to be born an englishman (white),
was to win one of the great lotteries of this life, right?
What outdated nonsense, or was it, look at migration today,
they all want to come to us - with benefits so they say.
I went where 'they' were - the white lord amongst slaves,
left to their own devices, haven't advanced much from caves;
of course, everything's fine, if your not stabbed, stopped driving,
now we're spending most of our time to prevent from arriving.
Perhaps that fail mindset was not so obscure after all still,
because as Joe says: 'Remember, migrants probably will.'
Big Chief Red Cloud
Man of no little fame
Advising the Paleface
How a child got its name.
It is given by a mother
From the first thing they see
After giving birth and
First leaving their teepee
For my own mother
What caught her eye
Was a beautiful sunset
And the colour of the sky
Over there Is my daughter
Little White Fawn
From a deer and her calf
Seen that very first dawn.
Sometimes of course
Tradition can be irritating
Sat by her side is my son
Two Dogs Copulating.
What's the difference between now or later?
When we will all receive the gift of death we can't refuse
Death greets every nation
Both ***** and the Paleface
Whether you left at ninety or fifteen
Memories of you on earth will fade gradually
Songs of funeral and proclamation of love
Only last a moment
Dreams and wishes will fade like smokes from quenched fire
And you will be an empty vessel in grave feeling relieve from obsessive ties to life
No matter how much you strive for a better life
You will die
The time may be different
But your time will never miss you
The Lone Ranger and Tonto
For years two loyal friends
Riding the range together
Fighting for justice's ends.
Kimo Sabe and his side kick
A Masked Man on his White Horse
And faithfully following along
That Brave Tonto of course.
Dead Mans Prairie
Not a branch of cover in sight
Three hundred hostile Redskins
Had crept up during the night.
You could hear their War cries
As they danced just out of range
Then came a sudden silence
Eerie, frightening and strange.
The odds were overwhelming
Chance of survival nil
The Lone Ranger sighed
Accepting the bitter pill.
This is it old companion
We've no chance if they attack.
But Old Tonto wasn't listening
He was on his horse's back
Heading for the tribes
In a survival race
Yelling over his shoulder
Who you talking to, Paleface.
Hush, hush ...
late-night reality peepers
Roll the eyeballs, but don’t you dare gossip talk
Blush, blush ...
keyhole camcorder creepers
NDA motility disability got publicity legs that walk
Nude
Discreet
Activity
Keep it on the hush, hush ...
spin the cash credits on a silent projector reel
One three zero K lap dance lewd
Do a horizontal tango with triple X size feet
Drunken adulterous revelry
scripting an unpatriotic production of infidelity —
Red Chip-n-Dale cheeks
White poker paleface
Blue light kitty straight flush
Here’s the table stakes deal:
Bought silence projector reel
spend spinning on a hush, hush
Trickbaby presidential suite,
high-class hooker in a VIP seat
Just another Golden Tower dirty secret projector peek —
reel silent Stormy eyes know, but don’t speak
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