|
From the Indian reservation to the governmental school |
|
Well they're goin' to educate me to the white men's Golden Rule |
|
And I'm learning very quickly for I've learned to be ashamed |
|
And I come when they call Billy though I've got an Indian name |
|
And there are drums beyond the mountain Indian drums that you can't hear |
|
There are drums beyond the mountain and they're getting mighty near |
|
And when they think that they'd changed me cut my hair to meet their needs |
|
Will they think I'm white or Indian quarter blood or just half breed |
|
Let me tell you Mr teacher when you say you'll make me right |
|
In five hundred years of fighting not one Indian turned white |
|
And there are drums... |
|
Well you thought that I knew nothing when you brought me here to school |
|
Just another empty Indian just America's first fool |
|
But now I can tell you stories that are burnt and dried and old |
|
But in the shadow of their telling walks the thunder proud and bold |
|
And there are drums... |
|
Long Pine and Sequoia Handsome Lake and Sitting Bull |
|
There's Magnus Colorado with his sleeves so red and full |
|
Crazy Horse the legend those who bit off Custer's soul |
|
They are dead yet they are living with the great Geronimo |
|
And there are drums... |
|
Well you may teach me this land's hist'ry but we taught it to you first |
|
We broke your hearts and bent your journeys broken treaties left us cursed |
|
Even now you have to cheat us even though you this us tame |
|
In our losing we found proudness in your winning you found shame |
|
And there are drums... |
