Ode to the Native American indians

We surrounded the camp at the break of dawn
Our cannon were loaded, our sabres were drawn
Sherman gave orders, we were forced to obey
Kill each and all of them, it must be this way

A salvo was fired, tee pees tearing through
Women were screaming, and old people too
This senseless slaughter, at the break of the day
No one could save them, the braves were away

They were hunting the buffalo to feed their own kind
Unaware of the slaughter, that was further behind
With tears in my eyes, I watched as they fell
Old women and children, and babies as well

Then out through the smoke, from this terrible hell
A warrior appeared, he was clearly unwell
Helped onto his horse, by the women around
Warpaint on his face, headress for a crown

With spear in hand, he taunted our battalion
Then he rode for our lines, on his black and white stallion
When he died from the salvo, he fell at my feet
And I knew in that instance, the stench of defeat

Gerald J Tate