Forgive Us, Oh Ancestors, of This Once Beautiful Land
Forgive us now, oh our ancestors,
red men, all so proud,
Shout from the highest hills,
of your anger, and do it loud.
Who allowed this wastefullness,
this misery now to be,
The earth, once so beautiful,
as far as the eye could see.
No hum of bees and birds to fly,
that filled the air in song,
Great trees, so tall to give all shade,
are gone, and is so wrong.
Wide oceans deep, the fishes home,
no longer safe from harm,
A missed sweet breath of a windswept plain,
and no rain, in our alarm.
Great smoking stacks foul the air,
was once so pure and clean,
No buffalo to roam the lands,
where the bear and wolf were seen.
The earth to nourish each so well,
now spoiled, and waste, all strewn,
Would our maker like these acts,
to be so generous, if He'd known?
Our humble request to you we make,
this dishonor we all regret,
Please forgive us now of this mistake,
although, all you can't forget.
Our stewardship has been, but lost,
and we must regain your trust,
Ours to set the record straight,
and before our returning to the dust.
Great Muscogee, the Cherokee,
Chickasaw, Apache, and Algonquin,
Native tribes of all this land,
their grand country they tried to defend,
Taken from them and in such haste,
to be scattered by the wind,
To you all honor and the most respect,
so heartfelt, from us we send.
We must preserve the earth, all of its kind,
to defend the mild and meek,
Dedicate our lives to care for our world,
Our spiritual good, to seek.
Our palette to lay before us now,
What colors shall we spread,
the tones of spring time, a renewal,
Or, is it Winter's blast, instead?
The rose of hope.