Gone are the ponies
That once roamed the hills,
There are no more tee pees
Our drum beats are still.
Our people have scattered,
Our corn has grown wild,
Our spears are all broken,
Our anger grown mild.
For with each treaty signing
And shaking of the hands,
The Cherokee moved backwards
And lost more Sacred lands.
Through winters cold and hungry
We stood to try again,
With spirits still unbroken
And pride we stood like men.
We stand now as a nation
For all the world to see,
Though times have changed,
We are still, the proud, the Cherokee.
( Tx-Tater 1999 )
