(Native American Perspective)
It's cold and dreary today,
Winter has just set in.
Families are dying from the disease,
Hideous and disgusting,
Tiny poxes are popping out all over:
The white settlers, who are
Taking over our land,
Raiding us and leaving us with nothing,
They call it smallpox.
There's not enough soil to plant, to eat,
We must always keep moving
To avoid attacks from the settlers.
They have pistols, that
Cuts through the skin, through the bone,
Through our souls, and we are no more.
We have not enough people to defend,
We must run, there is no other way.
I remember the old times,
No disease, no starvation, no need to move,
Enough food, corn soup, vegetables and dried buffalo.
The settlers, they call it necessity,
But now, they have left us nothing,
So now we call it luxury.
