Cherokee Blood
Mixed in with the mud and tears,
Cherokee blood fell for years,
Cherokee blood flows though my vein,
Sometime I hear the wind call my name.
Sometime I feel the spirits so close,
Softly touching me when the wind blows,
Cherokee blood flows though my vein,
And sometime I feel the Cherokee flame.
Cherokee tears fell in the mud,
Mixed with the tears was Cherokee blood,
Sometime I feel the Cherokee pain,
I have Cherokee blood in my vein
.Sometime I hear the spirits call my name,
I have Cherokee blood in my vein
Trail of Tears
How much farther ?
The child is weak,
Tears from the pain.
fall down her cheek,
Be brave little one,
for a great spirit comes
and guides us through,
this trail of tears,
We walk though the blood,
of those who fall,
The ancient spirits soulfully call,
The body may weaken
,
but the heart will stay strong,
A great spirit comes to guide us home.
The sun left the sky,
and day turned into night.
A child had to die,
A warrior lost the fight,
In the dark night
Walking in the shadows
of lost battles
See us rise again,
Listen to the wind,
Death took away the breathe of life,
Walking through a trail of blood and tears.
The old world disappears.
Do you hear the cries of the Cherokee.
Once the buffalo roamed wild and free,
Once land was ours as far as the sea,
We too have a song,
listen to the wind,
Whisper in your ears
,
Do you hear the cries,
on the trail of tears?
Thousands died,
Blood was shed.
Thousands cried.
over the dead,
Sometime the cries
fall on deaf ears.
Do you hear the cries
on the trail of tears.
Do you hear the cries,
on the trail of tears.
There was a Time
There was a time,
when the water was crystal clear,
There was a time,
when there was no fear,
for the free spirit of the wild deer,
There was a time,when the air was clean,
There was a time,or was it a dream?
Can this time ever come again?
After the touch of men.
There was a time,when this earth ,
was close to heaven
There was a time,
When the grass was green,
everything was living,
There was a time,or was it a dream?
There was a time,when the air we breathe,
was clean and fresh ,and smelled so sweet,
There was a time,when the sand ,was pure,
the ocean so blue,as it sweep over my feet,
Now there is oil and the dirty water runs deep,
There was a time,or was it a dream as I sleep,
Sometimes it does seem,
There was a time,or was it a dream?
There was a time,
when the flowers bloomed in June,
There was a time,when young lovers shared the moon,
There was a time,when wild deer drink from the stream.
There was a time,or was it a dream.
The earth is dying,and so am I,
There are tears that I silently cry,
I see the earth's beauty fade from the eyes,
Together it seems,our future dies,
There once was a time,when I looked with young eyes,
I saw the earth as paradise,
Now it's uncertain what tomorrow will bring,
There's a memory of living life it would seem,
When the sky was blue and the air was clean.
There was a time,or was it a dream?
Cherokee Spirit
I can feel it,
the Cherokee spirit,
Calling in the wind.
Like a long lost friend.
Dancing around the fire,
Feeding my wild desire,
In my dream he seems so real,
He warms the cold night chill,
I can feel it,
the Cherokee spirit.
He has to be a Cherokee Chief,
It's my belief
As he chants,
I see him dance,
around the fire,
As he feeds my wild desire,
He reaches for my heart
as if to steal it,
In the dark I can feel it,
The Cherokee spirit.
Wild like a eagle,
He soars the sky,
Spreading his wings ,
I watch him fly,
He has dreams ,
that never die,
He watches over his land,
He holds my hand,
I can feel it,
The Cherokee spirit.
Old warrior/ buffelo nickle
That old warrior on the buffalo nickel
Could have told you stories
that would make your hair stand up,
He once rode the prairie wild and free,
as a young buck,
He fought wars for his land,
Made his stand,
Now he’s just a old nickel,
Saved for luck,
Riding with some old cowboy,
In a old pick up truck.
You can see a brave man.
That fought with all his heart,
For His land,
He left his mark,
Now laying a truck floor
In the dark,
a old warrior on a nickel,
That fought with all his heart.
Lost the war. But left his mark.
Now laying on a truck floor,
In the dark.
You wanna know what makes a man,
Good with his word, willing to stand,
Fight for his land.
Until the last warrior falls.
One more warrior from wars lost
The face on a nickel,
In a old coin toss.
Now around campfires in song and in dance,
With a tommy hawk
Old warriors are remembered in chants.
Of wars that they fought
Blood trickles the trail where they walked.
If only old buffalo nickels could talk.
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