The Proud Cherokee

Tortured injustice, indescribable wrong.
We must fight! We must be Strong!
Alas, under leaden assault endure we cannot.
From our homes we are forced to flee, which with our hands we wrought.
From iron and fire our fear doth rise.
By what right do these men surmise
That they may take our home,
And force us the plains to roam?

They drive us like buffalo toward a cliff,
toward an ever-widening rift.
Our warriors are brave, our knives are sharp
Could we not make war upon their forts escarp’d?
We would die ‘tis true, but for the white man
We could make it a day to rue!
We could fight! Take iron to scalp, and knock hair askew!
I long to sink my blade deep within
To release the warm, crimson flow from white man’s skin.

women weep and children wail
When in death ships we sail.
In meat they give us maggots squirm,
In flour weevils swim, from the bread crawls a worm.
My pride will not give me luxury of a tear.
I must be stern, while within my heart doth sear.

Though the savages drive us west
My people will bear this burden lest
The whites see our pain,
For we cannot let them know their gain.
Even if this journey be our last
And away our lives be cast
My people will not quail
For we will take death before we fail.

At last! Our journey is done, but many didn’t
Live to see this end, our pride let us give less it wouldn’t!
Upon this eternal grass our trail ends.
From the hills and trees the white man sends
The proud Cherokee!
Although the sorrow for my people is great, At the state
Of the white man my pity is evoked.
Whoso is capable of such wrong
is much the sadder indeed than those who they torment.