THE INDIANS

Flashing eyes are dark of face,
Riding their horses with animal grace.

When they hunt they waste nothing,
Raising their powerful voices to sing.

Rushed them off their land in their greed,
They didn't care if they were in need.

"Barbaric savages" is what they called them
And to old fashioned ladies they were grim.

They still judge the colors of their skin,
Even with their many wages of sin.

How can they be cruel to these children of Love,
Glorious and proud in their houses of sod?

Were they not one with their Maker above,
Long before they lost sight of His love.