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FREEDOMWAYS THIRD QUARTER 1973 And few were the moccasins remaining That crushed the grass The sages watched With partly closed eyes Their idle sons and daughters Who were robbed of their manhood and womanhood Robbed of their dignity Robbed with every sunrise Of their native heritage Of Mother earth. The tribal sages Turned to their great spirit of freedom Who for centuries Remained sheltered in every tribe To nurture the young Who at the close of another century Once again came in caravans To stand armed Facing across no-man's land An armored ring Of White House goons Who waited for a signal To repeat the horror of 1890. And you well fed America Silent through the violence Of all these centuries Accepted your master's dictum Of death for the red man to be good Siding with the dealers of death To raise the sword upon other nations And to knot the lynch rope Upon your red and black brothers. Smoke signals are revived Wounded Knee is a smoke signal Banding once again all the tribes To recover their most precious loss Freedom No longer do red men 244