Testo Indian Sunset Peter Paul And Mary
As he awoke that evening with the smell of wood-smoke clinging
Like a gentle cobweb hanginâ upon a painted teepee
He went to see his chieftain with his war lance and his woman
For they told him that the yellow moon would very soon be leaving
"oh, this I canât believe, "he said, "i wonât believe our war lordâs dead!
He would not leave the chosen ones to the buzzards and the soldiersâ guns"
Oh, great father of the iroquois, ever since I was young
Iâve read the writing of the smoke and breast-fed on the sound of drums
Iâve learned to hurl the tomahawk and ride a painted pony wild,
To run the gauntlet of the sioux, to make a chieftainâs daughter mine
And now you ask that I should watch the red menâs race be slowly crushed?
What kind of words are these to hear from yellow dog, whom the white man fears?
I take only what is mine; my pony, my squaw, and my child
I canât stay to see you die, along with my tribeâs pride
I go to search for the yellow moon and the fathers of our sons
Where the red sun sinks in the hills of gold and the healing waters run
Tramplinâ down the prairie rose, leaving hooftracks in the sand
Those who wish to follow me, I welcome with my hand
I heard from passing renegades, geronimo was dead
Heâd been laying down his weapons when they filled him full of lead
Now there seems no reason why I should carry on
In this land that once was my land I canât find a home
Itâs lonely and itâs quiet and the horse soldiers are cominâ
And I think itâs time I strung my bow and ceased my senseless running
For now Iâll find the yellow moon along with my loved ones
Where the buffâloes graze in the clover fields without the sound of guns
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior comes with a bullet hole!