Forgotten Warrior

The forgotten Warriors

Like the Warriors of old, they prepared to meet their foe.

With a Warriors might, they did fight.

To protect freedoms Holy light.

In battles many, their foe was plenty, but for freedom they fought to save.

Though few were they, freedoms right they did save.

So to drive the Kings Warriors away.

Under a great general they fought many days.

And some of their brothers did pass away.

But their white brothers fought beside them.

Each and every day.

For freedoms light, all did fight.

That all may live and pray, each in their own way.

Bold was the fight, for freedoms light.

And for what they did fight, in their hearts they knew was right.

So boldly did they stand, with musket in hand.

For they knew the land, and for the General this was grand.

And with this might, all came out right.

And the birth of a new Nation came to this great land.

And was born a free man.

The war was done, and freedom had won.

To the glory! Of the Makers way.

So these battle ridden Warriors.

Made plans their homes to see.

All who did fight the right to keep their musket.

They did see and to each land did they receive.

But not the Mohican Warriors, no weapon could they keep.

And these bold Warriors of old were told.

By these men of old, go! The war is over, and we need you no more.

So with sad hearts they did depart, for to their land.

Like that of free men, their ways they could keep.

But as the days went by, their land was in the white mans eyes.

And as old Warriors did die, they looked to the sky.

For this plight! They could not abide.

And once more the white man said go.

I ask you, is this right?

That a man who fights for freedoms Holy light.

Be given no rights, to live in his Makers sight.

And to pray in his own way.

The white man came to this land.

To seek freedom from a greedy Kings way.

And for their children to sing say and play.

Each in their own loving way?

But the children of these noble siege.

Warriors of a once great Nation.

Who for freedoms light they did fight.

No freedom did they see.

Who freedom came to an end, when they were force to walk.

A trail of tears, to go from the land they did hold dear.

These forgotten Warriors, who help to keep this land free.

Who now sheds a tear, none but this lonely band of Mohicans here.

And to these forgotten Warriors I say, be proud my great and mighty Warriors.

For the Great Spirit knows your ways.

I ask you is this the way you treat Americas best.

These noble ones, the ones they called.

The Native American minutemen.

Who when called, left their home and families.

To fight the first war this county fought for liberty.

By taking away the rights, that all fought to keep?

You honor many who fought this war.

Why are there no words of praise.

For these forgotten Warriors?

Because you think they are members of a lesser race?

That they have no faith, I tell you I have seen the records.

And have seen the greatness of these who are my Forefathers.

And I am proud to be their descendent.

Though even now I am looked down upon.

And to them who look down at my Forefathers I say.

Keep your honor and glory, for as long as I live.

I will tell the story, of these great and mighty Warriors.

Forgotten and striped of their glory.

And to these my great and mighty Warriors I say.

Stand proud! Oh great and mighty Warriors.

The songs of your great and might siege.

These noble deeds, will I sing to those who heed.

The glory of the free belongs also with you.

And to my children I will say, stand proud.

In the shadows of these great and mighty Warriors.

For they fought to save your fate.

So again I say, Stand proud great and mighty Warriors.

Noble men of a proud race, for the day will come.

When all! Will say Stockbridge Warriors.

This is your day