OUR fathers, heap long time ago, Held all this land in fee— They roved from Gulf to Hudson's Bay, Romantic, fierce and free. The white man took it all away, And trimmed us to a frazzle, Gave us the hook, the lemon sour, And eke the razzle-dazzle. (Chorus) Four—nineteen—six, butt through the guard, And see you squash his liver— Nine—fifty—eight—their halfback's down— Just see his frame a-quiver! We cannot get the golden lands Or win back independence, But we can kick the gizzard out Of Pilgrim folks' descendants! Our ancestors were easy. They Allowed the whites to chin them, And then the wicked pale men turned Upon the reds to skin them. We have no homes to house us now, Except small reservations, But we can play the paleface youths, And whack their cerebrations. (Chorus) King Philip's ghost is smiling as We punch the white boy's nose off, And Pontiac applauds when we Right deftly break his toes off. Six—fifteen—five—hit straight and hard, And kick them in the dinner— Tecumseh's shade is pleased to see Us maul each pale-faced sinner! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DESTINY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION by ROBERT BROWNING THE VALLEY BROOK by JOHN HOWARD BRYANT THE LADY AND THE SWINE by MOTHER GOOSE SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |