The old woman reach in my stomach
an pull out a horse covered with spots.
She keeps pulling an pulling horses ’til
they numbers four.
Then they ride ’round in a big circle
alla way to where the sun rise
when they gets back to us
they all carrying chiefs.
When I make to stare at them I can see
they all be tied to they horses
an alla the riders is dead except one.
An he is cradling a book a light in his arms.
When the people see the book they cut off
they hair an burn all they medicines an skins
Then they stand together in a long long line
wrapped in thin blankets ’til they fall asleep.
When they wake, somebody has stolen alla land.
Alla buffalo are dead. An half-breeds out number
the trees. When I ask the old woman who did this
she points at me an begins to sing a wailing song.