A poem sweeping the reader back in history |
Into the majestic Paha Sapa, the Sioux’ sacred land Colonel Custer led his murderous band Hearing rumors that “that thar was gold in them hills” Oblivious was the Colonel of the blood soon to be spilled Deadwood was plundered, and lives were taken The Sioux Indian tribe now felt forsaken It appeared that the Treaty of 1868 had been signed for naught That their ancestors had been right, that they should have fought There could be no peace with these “wasichu” men The white race had deceived them once again Bitter and restless the natives became For the Indians, life would never be the same No talks of peace could alter the fact That the greedy “wasichus” had broken their pact The Sioux rounded up their neighboring friends The Brule, Ogalala, Minneconjou, and Cheyenne Soon more tribes joined their illustrious band Uniting as one force, together they would stand Yet Custer cared not what the Indians did Followed murderous commands, he did what was bid I wonder if he ever questioned why In the near future so many would die Did the Colonel realize the price his inflamed ego would cost, Truly acknowledge the fact that lives would be lost? I wonder what Custer would have said If he had but known that in a matter of days he would be dead Would the cost of Indian land have been worth it then? Would George Armstrong Custer have been so swift to sin? Without thought Custer headed for the “Greasy Grass” Ignoring Indian warnings that he was not to pass Custer led his men into Indian land Unaware this was to be “Custer’s Last Stand” The rest of the tale is sad to behold For upon the Big Horn the Seventh Cavalry did fold One by one the “bluecoats” did die The Indians’ whooping their victory cry Through fellowship with one another this battle did end Yet they knew that another was to come again But for now they had united to retain their sacred land So marks it in history as “Custer’s Last Stand” |