Dakota Wind
« Steve Dickson »
Wind blows cold on the prairie now
Where the people used to roam
Living close with nature’s spirit
Many places were called home
Herds of
buffalo shared the land
The great bounty of the earth
Was theirs as far as eye could see
They knew how much it was worth
Far more
than any golden dust
Torn and stolen from black hills
The strange ones came from far and wide
Brought with them so many ills
Old clan
members just wanted peace
The younger men talked of war
Many were sickened by disease
Their numbers fell by the score
Forced to sign
away all their past
They were driven from the land
Sent far away against their will
By a cruel misguided hand
A mournful
wind on the prairie
Blows hard on their run down shacks
The people chase different spirits
Poverty follows their tracks
Can hope
rise up from the ashes
To replace what’s now despair
If the young learn that the old ones
Can inspire and make them care
Return again
to nature’s path
Even in these modern days
Let go now of the tragic past
Live once more in ancient ways
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