Buffy Sainte-Marie {@ Gypsy Boy Music} '66~'69 ...
NOW that your big eyes are finally opened: now that you're wondering, "How must they feel?" Meaning them that you've chased cross America's movie screens; NOW that you're wondering, "How can it be real?" That the ones you've called colorful. noble and proud in your school propaganda, They starve in their splendour. You asked for our comment, I simply will render: My country 't is of they people you're dying!
Now that the long houses "breed superstition" you force us to send our children away to your schools where they're taught to despise their traditions, forbid them their languages; Then further say that American history really began when Columbus set sail out of Europe and stress that the nations of leeches who conquered this land were the biggest, and bravest, and boldest, and best?
And yet where in your history books is the tale of the genocide basic to this country's birth?
Of the preachers who lied?
How the Bill of Rights failed?
How a nation of patriots returned to their earth?
And where will it tell of the Liberty Bell as it rang with a thud over Kinzua mud?
Or of barve Uncle Sam in Alaska this year?
MY COUNTRY 'T IS OF THY PEOPLE YOU'RE DYING!
HEAR how the bargain was made for West, with her shivering children in zero degrees! "Blankets for your land" ~ so the treaties attest! Oh well, blankets for land, that's a batgain indeed! And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected from smallpox diseased dying soldiers that day! And the tribes were wiped out and the history books censored a hundred years of your statesmen say, "It's better this way!"
BUT a few of the conquered have somehow survived and their blood runs the redder though genes have been paled!
From the Grand Canyon's caverns to Craven's sad hills the wounded, the losers, the robed sing their tale!
From Los Angelos County to upstate New York, the white nation fattens while others grow lean!
Oh the tricked and evicted they know what I mean: MY COUNTRY 'T IS OF THY PEOPLE YOU'RE DYING!
NOW that the pride of the sires receives charity. Now that we're harmless and safe behind laws. Now that my life's to be known as your heritage. Now that even the graves have been robbed!
Now that our own chosen way is your novelty! Hands on our herats we salute you your victory: choke on your blue white and scarlet hypocrisy! Pitying your blindness; How you never see ~ that the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory, were never no more than buzzards & crows: Pushed some wrens from their nesy; Stole their eggs; changed their story!
The mockingbird sings it; It's all that she knows.
"Oh what can I do?", say a powerless few. With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye: Can't you see how their poverty's profiting you?
My country 't is of thy people you're dying ...
DAT gold van voor 't Romeinse wereldrijk met haar z.g. Pax Romana tot en met vandaag de mydidag: ondanks alles ...