My Country, 'tis of Thy People You're Dying...

Via NY Transfer News * All the News That Doesn't Fit

thanks to Bill Koehnlein <toplab@toplab.org)

http://www.bornholm-gym.dk/fagsider/engelsk/buffy.htm

My Country ´tis of Thy People You´re Dying.
1960s by Buffy Sainte-Marie (Cree)

          Now that your big eyes have finally opened
          Now that you´re wondering how must they feel, meaning
          Them that you´ve chased across 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 splendor
          You´ve asked for my comment I simply will render:
                    My country 'tis of thy people you´re dying.

          Now that the long houses reek superstition
          You force us to send our toddlers away to your schools
          Where they are taught to despise their traditions.
          Forbid them their languages, then further say
          that American history really began
          When the lumber set sail out of Europe and stress
          that the nation of leeches that´s conquered this land
          are 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,
          Of 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 tins, over mud,
          And the great Uncle Sam in Alaska this year?
                    My country ´tis of thy people you´re dying.

          Hear how the bargain was made for the West
          With her shivering children in zero degrees,
          "Blankets for your land," so the treaties attest.
          Oh well, blankets for land is a bargain indeed
          And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected
          From smallpox disease dying soldiers that day.
          And the tribes were wiped out
          And the history books censored.
          A hundred years of your statesmen
          Have felt it´s better this way.
          Yet a few of the conquered have somehow survived.
          Their blood runs the redder
          Though their genes have been paled.
          From the Grand Canyon´s caverns to the craven sad hills
          The wounded, the losers, the robbed sin& their tale.
          From Los Angeles´ county to upstate New York
          The white nation fattens while others grow lean,
          Oh the tricked and the victed they know what I mean,
                    My country ´tis of thy people your dying.

          The past it just crumbled,
          The future just threatens
          Our life blood shut up in your chemical tanks
          And now here you come bill of sale in your band
          And surprise in your eyes that we´re lacking in thanks
          For the blessings of civilization you´ve brought us,
          The lessons you´ve taught us,
          The ruin you´ve wrought us,
          Oh see what our trust in America´s brought us
                    My country ´tis 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 out own chosen way is a novelty,
          Hands on our hearts we salute you your victory,
          Choke on your blue, white and scarlet hypocracy,
          Pitying the blindness that you´ve never seen
          That the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory
          They were never no more than carrion crows
          Pushed the wrens from their nests,
          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 that their poverty´s profiting you?
                    My country ´tis of thy people you´re dying.

 
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nytrc-05.18.02-04:58:28-11411