Tune: He's a jolly good fellow
For your chieftan is a crazy drunk,
Your tribal land smells like a skunk,
Now you're coming down with the flu
And that's the end of you.
Put feathers on your head
cover your face in paint
so now you look like a clown
your village is burning down
your children are il-ter-ate
Down with Navajo
OH WHAT A NIGHT (DECEMBER 1963)
You sleep on dirt
Your fathers name you could not understand
You were not able to defend your land
walk the bloody trail of tears
go puff your pipe
now your tee-pees have gone up in smoke
your ancient weapons are such a joke
your native race is a discrace.
chief wahoo said to sitting bull "let's go catch some dinner,"
couldn't catch any game to eat.
had no food all winter
talking 'bout:
hunger
starving
children
dying
your bows and arrows don't work.
your tribe is dying one by one,
don't you know the end has come.
HOW!
Submitted by Jenny Levin