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Latest news from Florida. Thunder boomers and lightning. Stay tuned because I ain't. Hope Setanta is having fun.

Exactly 80 years ago, Tom Gerun and his Orchestra released "Am I blue" for the first time

Am I blue
Am I blue
Ain't these tears in my eyes tellin' you
Am I blue
You would be too
If your plans with your man
Done fell through
There was a time
I was the only one
And now I'm the sad and lonely one, lonely, lonely
Was I gay, until today
Now he's gone and we're through
Am I blue

Oh, you know I'm blue
Oh, you make me, make me so blue
Ain't these tears in my eyes tellin' you
Oh, you makin' me so blue
You know, you know, know you do
Now my plans with my man
They done fell through

There was a time
That I was his only one
And now I'm the sad and lonely one, lonely
Was I gay, until today
But now he's gone and we're through
Am I blue


This song of course became more famous by Ella Fitzgerald ... or Billie Holliday ... or Ricky Nelson ... or George Strait .... or Ray Charles ... or ... ... ...

Tom Gerun (né: Thomas Gerunovitch)

Photo of the 1931 Band: Back L-R: Steve Bowers-Bass & Vocals, Tom Gerun-Leader & Violin, Les Lyons-Trumpet
Middle L-R: Frank McMinn-Trumpet & Violin, Bill Arnes-Drums, Woody Herman-Tenor sax & Vocals, Jack Bunch-Alto sax, Gary Nottingham-Trombone & Violin
Front L-R: Phil Kamp-Trumpet, Al Cicerone-Alto sax, Johnny Scott-Piano, Jimmy Davis-Guitar
Not present: Miller Martin-Violin.

The band was based in San Francisco. It was a "hot band" in the style of Ben Pollack. Tom Gerun later drifted away from the band business and opened and ran the Bal Tabarin night club in San Francisco.

In August of 1941, Gerun was entertaining troops at Ford Ord, where as owner of Bal Tabarin nightclub, he provided the whole show as part of the celebration. The bands taking part in the show were Carl Ravazza and his Palace Hotel Band; Bob Saunders and his band from the Bal Tabarin, and Robert Nurok and his group from the Alcazar night club. Among the performers were 'Senor Wences', ventriliquist from the Bal Tabarin, famed actress and vocalist Gertrude Niesen, the Duncan Sisters, and others. This also seems to indicate that Gerun was running his Bal Tabarin Club before the US entered WWII.

PacMan is 25 yrs old today!

Hey Dys, how's it hangin' way out there in Albu-kk?

Some days are warmer than others. Say hello to the Missus McTag, she seemed a right nice lady.

Done, thanks, and to the Lady Diane, Queen of the West.

The Lady of the West will be picking up her new Smith & Wesson 357 mag shortly, drop on by and we can go out for a little target shooting.

This too shall pass? Well, it did, listeners.

Thanks Walter, I know that song, but I didn't know the background. Tom Gerun has a proper looking bunch, does he not listeners?

Well, glad that pac-man got mentioned, dys. Also glad that McTag has quit hanging out with the foxes and the dogs.

Of course, all, the difference between a fox and a dog is a couple of drinks. Hee Hae.

And while dys and McTag have a tete a tete, lets listen to some music.



Somethin' filled up
my heart with nothin',
someone told me not to cry.

But now that I'm older,
my heart's colder,
and I can see that it's a lie.

Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don'ta grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We're just a million little god'sa cousin rain storms turnin' every good thing to rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am coin' to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.

With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am coin'
With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am go-coin'

You better look out below!

Ode to the surge protector:

Your green eye says you got it right.
You didn't blink, but fought the fight.

and so my ode is this, to thee,
Praise the Lord you set me free.

teenyboone, Welcome back, my dear. Well, you might as well be. <smile>

I have a lake in my front yard. Care for a swim? :wink:

short break:

This is cyberspace, WA2K radio.

Here is some troubling news, listeners:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The American Indian teenagers died one by one, all in order, as they had agreed in their suicide pact.



Seventeen teens have killed themselves in recent months in Cheyenne River, and the deaths were typical of teen suicides among American Indians, experts told a Congressional hearing on Wednesday, as they asked for funding for programs to target the problem.

"Some of these suicides were young men who had made a suicide pact with one another. They drew numbers, and decided to hang themselves in that order. One by one their families found these boys, often hanging in their homes, as their number came up," said Julie Garreau, executive director of the Cheyenne River Youth Project in Eagle Butte, South Dakota.

While these suicides did not make the national news, the March 21 shooting attack by 16-year-old Jeff Weise, a Chippewa Indian living on the Red Lake reservation in Minnesota, made headlines around the world. Weise killed 10 people, including himself.

"We are heartbroken that it may have taken an incident like the school shootings at the Red Lake Reservation in Minnesota to bring national attention to the crisis our children are facing in Indian Country, but are so relieved that someone is finally hearing our voices," Garreau told a hearing of the Senate Indian Affairs Committee.

Indian reservations have extremely high rates of suicide, said U.S. Surgeon-General Dr. Richard Carmona.

"For 5- to 14- year-olds, the suicide rate is 2.6 times higher than the national average. And there is an even greater disparity in the later teenage years and into young adulthood," Carmona said in testimony prepared for the hearing.

"The suicide rate for American Indian/Alaska Native youth aged 15 to 24 is 3.3 times higher than the national average."

A combination of poverty and shame, along with alcoholism and drug abuse, were to blame, several experts told the hearing.

"Nationwide, 26 percent of the native population lives in poverty (including 38 percent of native children) versus 13 percent of all racial groups (including 18 percent of the children of all races), and only 8 percent of white Americans," said psychologist Joseph Stone of the Grande Ronde Behavioral Health Program in Oregon and a Blackfeet Nation member.

Stone said he was overwhelmed with work and there were not enough counselors to help troubled Indian youth. Many would never seek help on their own anyway, he added.

Clark Flatt, president of The Jason Foundation in Hendersonville, Tennessee, whose son Jason killed himself at age 16, suggested bringing counseling directly to teens.

"We propose having a mobile counseling center -- a customized RV (recreational vehicle) -- that would on a regular basis provide counseling services to areas of a reservation," he said.

Internet-based telemedicine may also help, Flatt suggested.

Garreau said teens would also benefit from simple activities.

"The students asked us for a Teen Center. With no mall, no movie theater, no bowling alley, few jobs and very long winters, there are very few healthy outlets for our teens," she said. "By getting our teenagers 'in the door' with attractions like the basketball court and Internet cafe, we then have them as an audience for other health and wellness activities."

It seems that on another section of our forum, someone was asking about why the press always played up white "damsels in distress."

(damsons in a dress--just a brief memory interruption)

there is a segment on our local TV station that always features "Wednesday's Child". Today it was a young black girl who had been abused and was taken by the anchor man to see Shamu, (an orca).

I have never seen such a lovely and articulate young girl. She fed Shamu and was rewarded with a black and white dance, to which she replied, "Amazing!"

So long ago, Satt focusable led me to these words:


Qkumba Zoo lyrics


Who's that calling ?
who's that who can show the way ?
The child inside,
The child who lives still in your eyes

ne ho ne ye he hiyo, ne ho ne yehe ha
ne ho ne ye he hiyo, neho neho nehe hehe

Who's that dying,
Trying for a space in the cage you call your life
Who's that crying
Crying out just what it is you've thrown away





it's the. . .
The child inside,
The child who lives still in your eyes

ne ho ne ye he hiyo, ne ho ne yehe ha
ne ho ne ye he hiyo, neho neho nehe hehe

Who's that dancing
Laughing crying living every day by day by day by day

It's the. . .

The child inside, its the child who lives still in your eyes
ne ho ne ye he hiyo, ne ho ne yehe ha
ne ho ne ye he hiyo, neho neho nehe hehe

Secret of the sun is in your eyes
Take the power from your dreams and fly
Children know it's magick that makes the world go round ...

Flower Lady
By Phil Ochs

G C G C G C G C G
Millionaires and paupers walk the hungry streets
C G D
Rich and poor companions of the restless beat
Bm C
Strangers in a foreign land
Bm C
Strike a match with trembling hand
Bm Em C D
Learn too much to ever understand
C D G C G
But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Lover's quarrel, snarl away their happiness
Kissed crumble in a web of lonliness
It's written by the poison pen
Voices break before they bend
The door is slammed
It's over, once again
But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Poets agonize, they cannot find the words
And the stone stares at the sculptor asks "are you absurd?"
The painter paints his brushes back
Through the canvas runs a crack
Portrait of the pain never answers back
But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Soldiers, disillusioned, come home from the war
Sarcastic students tell them not to fight no more
And they argue through the night
Black is black and white is white
Walk away both knowing they are right
But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Smoke dreams of escaping souls are drifting by
Dull the pain of living as they slowly die
Smiles change into a sneer
washed away by whiskey tears
In the quicksand of their mind they disappear
Still nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Feeble, aged, people almost to their knees
Complain about the present using memories
Never found their pot of gold
Wrinkled hands pound weary holes
Each line screams out you're old, you're old, you're old
But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

And the flower lady hobbles home without a sale
Tattered shreds of petals leave a fading trail
Not a pause to hold a rose
Even she no longer knows
The lamp goes out the evening now is closed
And nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

Well, edgar, I could post a UVA funny for our listeners, but that is a lovely song, so I won't. Instead--

Artist: Mary Poppins Lyrics
Song: Feed The Birds (Tuppence A Bag) Lyrics

Early each day to the steps of Saint Paul's
The little old bird woman comes.
In her own special way to the people she calls,
"Come, buy my bags full of crumbs.
Come feed the little birds, show them you care
And you'll be glad if you do.
Their young ones are hungry,
Their nests are so bare;
All it takes is tuppence from you."
Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag.
"Feed the birds," that's what she cries,
While overhead, her birds fill the skies.
All around the cathedral the saints and apostles
Look down as she sells her wares.
Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling
Each time someone shows that he cares.
Though her words are simple and few,
Listen, listen, she's calling to you:
"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag."

And just so that I don't spill over at "this time of night"

Hello lady, I'll buy your GD violets,
Hello lady, I'll buy your pencils, too.
Hello lady, take off them dark rimmed glasses.
Hello mother, I knew it was you.

Well, listeners, I really need to make this my goodnight song:

This love of mine,
Goes on and on,
Though life is endless,
Since you've been gone.

You're always on my mind,
Though out of sight,
I'm lonely through the day,
And all the night.

I've cried my heart out,
It's bound to break,
Since nothing matters,
Let it ache,

I've asked the sun and the moon,
The stars that shine,
What's to become of it,
This love of mine.

For all of our absent contributors

From Letty with love

I just listened to a tape of a friend who sang this one in a soft, ever so deep and mellow baritone. I am clearing out my cassettes and am so glad that I still have this one:

The sun goes down in Calvin county
Neon lights from an old beer sign
Shown through the window out on the sidewalk
As I walked in to pass the time;
I looked around, sat down at a table
Ordered beef on rye and a glass of wine
And through the door came a little old lady
She was selling paper roses and they only cost a dime.

Paper Rosie, Paper Rosie
She sold you Paper Roses, But they only cost a dime.

Silver hair that's lost its' Gold
Trembling hand as she passed the rose
Red Crepe paper, made nature's bouquet
Help a little old lady buy a rose today;
I took the rose from her trembing hand
With eyes of age, she smilled and walked away
Like a breath of spring I could smell the rose
It came alive and I heard her say.

Buy my Roses, pretty roses
They're only made of paper
But they only cost a dime.

I went to look for her outside
A spray of roses lay by her side
The sky lit up and the choir sang
A thousand voices as the church bells rang.

They sang Rosie (Rosie), paper Rosie (Rosie)
She sold you Paper Roses
But they only cost a dime.

Paper Rosie (Rosie), Paper Rosie (Rosie)
She sold you paper roses
But they only cost a dime.

In memory of the Native American Children


For Those Who Cried
ByT.W. Martindale
Sagwu Usdi

Listen to the lulling sounds of the flute as it softly plays.
Hear it and imagine the tranquility of life that our loved ones once knew.
It was a land with a calm serenity.
Come with me….Come to a land where each new day warmly embraces your soul.
A land kissed by the morning dew, and streams sparkling with ripples stirred by the finger of God.
Close your eyes and hear the sounds of silence…….
A babbling brook…the rustling of leaves…the cry of the eagle, and soft beat of the drum.

As the sun kisses the night farewell, the younger men arise to greet the new day.
Joining them are the older boys….For today they will learn how to hunt….and how to survive.
They master their skills and learn to coexist with the untamed land they call home.
This is not a time used for hunting and survival alone, but also a lesson to sharpen the senses.
They acquire the prowess of the wolf and the keen sight of the eagle and hawk.
Feel it as they savor a unique awareness and oneness with all creatures great and small.
Close your eyes and feel the soft caress of the wind….FEEL the presence of the wolf, eagle, and hawk!

As we turn our focus toward the camp, we see the children as they laugh and play.
Mothers look up from their work and the young to which they tend…….
They softly smile as they watch them frolic happily across the tender meadows.
Speaking of family, and recounting stories once told them, the elders sit and tell of days gone by.
As records are kept in diaries, they keep alive their memories and truths in the minds of their descendants.
This is their past…Their present…. AND their future.
Passed down from generation to generation, It is their life!

Theirs is a life not unlike the one we all desire.
It is a full life filled with happiness, loving, laughter and contentment.
They enjoy the soft, cool spring breeze….and feel the soothing warmth of the sun on their skin.
Although the life they live is not entirely idyllic, it is their home.
Yes….Look around and see….Even then, as now, they too dealt with sickness and pain.
They too have loved ones that are ill and do what they must to restore health to the weak and frail.
Just like you and I, they stay by the deathbeds of ones they love and mourn death when it comes.

They were and ARE just like all others, yet….Treated unlike ALL others.
Strangers have come to their Native Land and to strip them of their homes, family, and dignity.
They are so covetous of these wind kissed plains, cool flowing streams, and abundant wildlife.
Having done everything….ANYTHING within their power to take what rightfully belongs to another.
Sit and watch….Feel the pain as their families are torn apart…even murdered!
They are forced into the harsh elements of nature as their homes are ruthlessly stolen from them.
Yes……All these things we sat and watched, yet did nothing to end this insanity.

All of these things happened in a land where we proudly boast of freedom and dignity of life for all.
No one cared as these suffered and died cruel and unnecessary deaths as they tried to defend their homes.
These are OUR families and the hurt they endured should deeply seer our souls!
I do not hate. But I will always remember life as it should be……… Remember the sounds of silence…….
A babbling brook…rustling leaves… the cry of the eagle, and the soft beat of the drum.
And I will listen…Listen to the lulling sounds of the flute as it still softly plays…….
For those who cried.



Cry!
Cry for the Children!
All the Children of the World!
Who are suffering!
Cry for the Children!
SR

In memory of the Native American Children


Indian Children Speak
By Juanita Bell

People said, "Indian children are hard to teach.
Don't expect them to talk."
One day stubby little Boy said,
"Last night the moon went with me all the way
When I went out to walk."
People said. "Indian children are very silent.
Their only words are no and yes."
But ragged Pansy confided softly,
"My dress is old but at night the moon is kind;
Then I wear a beautiful moon-colored dress."
People said, "Indian children are dumb.
They seldom make a reply."
Clearly I hear Dolores answer,
"Yes, the sunset is so good, I think God is throwing
A bright shawl around the shoulders of sky."
People said, "Indian children are rude.
They don't seem very bright."
Then I remember Joe Henry's remark.
"The tree is hanging down her head because the sun
is staring at her.
White people always stare.
They do not know it is not polite."
People said, "Indian children never take you in,
Outside their thoughts you'll always stand."
I have forgotten the idle words that People said,
But treasure the day when iron doors swung wide,
and I slipped into the heart of Indian land.



Halfbreed Girl in the City School
By Jo Whitehorse Cochran

are you Mexican
are you Italian
are you Chinese
are you Japanese
spic wetback greaseball slant-eye
you are dark enough to question
you are light enough to ask
you have near black hair brown eyes
and speak slow-english
we are blonde blue eyed
and wear store bought sweaters skirts or pants
you are in homemade clothes out of style
we circle around you and your sister
you hug your sister close she's small and even darker
we kick we tug at braids and coats
we pull "I'm Indian!" out of you

the social worker wants
you to describe your family
she asks
does your father beat you
does your mother
does your father drink
does your mother
do you hate your parents
do you cry
tell me tell me do you
like the reservation better
are you ashamed in the classroom
when you wet your pants
why don't you speak up
why don't you get excused
why don't you go at recess
tell me tell me speak!

you stare out the window
turn an alphabet block in your hands
speak english speak english
the social worker caws
outside Canadian geese pass through your immediate sky
six in an arc going south
if you were a Changer like Star Boy
you could fly with those long-necks
but you must stay and look out this window

Grandma's words pound in your head
they want to strip us of our words
they want to take our tongues
so we forget how to talk to each other
you swallow the rock
that was your tongue
you swallow the song
that was your voice
you swallow you swallow
in silence

From Dancing on the Rim of the World



Indian Singing in 20th Century America
By Gail Trembly

We wake; we wake the day,
the light rising in us like sun-
our breath a prayer brushing
against the feathers in our hands.
We stumble out into streets;
patterns of wires invented by strangers
are strung between eye and sky,
and we dance in two worlds,
inevitable as seasons in one,
exotic curiosities in the other
which rushes headlong down highways,
watches us from car windows, explains
us to its children in words
that no one could ever make
sense of. The images obscures
the vision, and we wonder
whether anyone will ever hear
our own names for the things
we do. Light dances in the body,
surrounds all living things-
even the stones sing
although their songs are infinitely
lower than the ones we learn
from trees. No human voice lasts
long enough to make such music sound.
Earth breath eddies between factories
and office buildings, caresses the surface
of our skin; we go to jobs, the boss
always watching the clock to see
that we're on time. He tries to shut
out magic and hopes we'll make
mistakes or disappear. We work
fast and steady and remember
each breath alters the composition
of the air. Change moves relentless,
the pattern unfolding despite their
planning-
we're always there-singing round dance
songs, remembering what supports our
life-impossible to ignore.

I dedicate these two threads to the Native American teenagers who died one by one, as they had agreed in their suicide pact. And to all our teens who are committing suicide in large numbers all over the world.

Geronimo

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.


Geronimo (Chiricahua Goyaałé 'One Who Yawns'; often spelled Goyathlay in English), (June 16, 1829-February 17, 1909) was a prominent Native American leader of the Chiricahua Apache who long warred against the encroachment of settlers of European descent on tribal lands.

Biography


Geronimo was born in what is now the state of New Mexico and according to the maps of the time was part of Mexico, but which his family considered Bedonkohe Apache land. Geronimo himself was a Chiricahua Apache. He grew up to be a respected medicine man and an accomplished warrior who fought frequently with Mexican troops. Mexican bandits massacred some of his relatives in 1858, and as a result he hated all Mexicans for the rest of his life. His Mexican adversaries gave him the nickname of "Geronimo", the Spanish version of the name "Jerome".


Geronimo fought against ever increasing numbers of both Mexican and United States troops and became famous for his daring exploits and numerous escapes from capture. His forces became the last major force of independent Indian warriors who refused to acknowledge the United States Government in the American West. This came to an end on September 4, 1886, when Geronimo surrendered to United States Army General Nelson A. Miles at Skeleton Canyon, Arizona.

Geronimo was sent in as a prisoner to Fort Pickens, Florida. In 1894 he was moved to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. In his old age Geronimo became something of a celebrity, appearing at fairs and selling souvenirs and photographs of himself, but not allowed to return to the land of his birth. He rode in President Theodore Roosevelt's 1905 inaugural parade. He died of pneumonia at Fort Sill.
[edit]

Geronimo as Medicine Man

Below is an account of a Chiricahua boy's memory of attending a healing ceremony by Geronimo:

"The first ceremony by Geronimo I saw was one for an older man. Some coyote or dog had made him sick. One boy got hold of the news that the ceremony was going to be held, and we learned of it through him. We asked Geronimo if we could attend. He said it would be all right but told us we could not scratch ourselves or make any noise.

"The ceremony began in the evening, as soon as it became dark. It took place in an arbor outside Geronimo's home. There was a fire. Geronimo and the patient were on the west side of the fire. Geronimo sat facing the east, and the patient lay stretched out before him. Some older people were there. They were mostly relatives of the sick man. But it would have been all right for anyone to come in and watch. We sat in a circular fashion in the back of the shelter. But the space to the east was left open, as always happens at a ceremony.

"Geronimo had an old black tray basket before him filled with the things he used for the ceremony. He had a downy eagle feather in it and an abalone shell and a bag of pollen. All these things were wrapped up in a bundle before the ceremony began.

"He rolled a cigarette and puffed to the directions first of all, beginning with the east, puffing just once to each direction. Then he threw the cigarette away. After smoking, he rubbed the patient with pollen. He dropped pollen on the patient, just on certain parts of the body. He prayed to the directions as he did this. These prayers referred to Coyote and were on the same order as the songs which followed.

"He started to sing. There were many songs, and the songs were about Coyote. They told how Coyote was a tricky fellow, hard to see and find, and how he gave these characteristics to Geronimo so that he could make himself invisible and even turn into a doorway. They told how the coyote helped Geronimo in his curing. Geronimo accompanied his singing with a drum which he beat with a curved stick. At the end of each song he gave a call like a coyote.

"When the evening star was halfway between the horizon and the zenith, Geronimo stopped singing. This is the Chiricahua midnight. The ceremony lasted four nights. The same prayers, songs, and procedure were gone through for the four nights. I know that Geronimo had ghost power too. That night he told some of the boys that he was going to give another ceremony for a patient on another night, this time for ghost sickness, and that they might attend if they would promise not to scratch themselves."

(Opler 1941: 40-41)



Geronimo is a popular figure in cinema and television. He has appeared in many films, including:

* Geronimo (1939)
* Geronimo (1962)
* Geronimo's Last Raid (1912)
* Hawk of the Wilderness (1938)
* Valley of the Sun (1942)
* I Killed Geronimo (1950)
* Broken Arrow (1950)
* Outpost (1951)
* Son of Geronimo: Apache Avenger (1952)
* The Battle at Apache Pass (1952)
* Indian Uprising (1952)
* Taza, Son of Cochise (1954)
* Walk the Proud Land (1956)
* Geronimo: An American Legend (1993)
* Geronimo (Starring Joseph Runningfox) (1993)
* War of the Buttons (1994).

He appeared in 1979 film Mr. Horn, despite never having met Tom Horn. He also appeared in the 1993 telefilm Geronimo, Gunsmoke: The Last Apache, the 1990 reunion movie of television series Gunsmoke, and the 1966 West German film Geronimo und die Räuber. The 1976 film I Due superpiedi quasi piatti features a character who believes himself to be Geronimo. The anime television series Ultimate Muscle: The Kinnikuman Legacy features a highly stereotyped native wrestler, based loosely on the historical figure.

In 1940, the night before their first mass jump, U.S. paratroopers at Fort Benning saw a film about Geronimo, and began shouting his name during jumps, a trend which has caught on elsewhere.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geronimo

An Old Indian
Lumber Camp Song

An old Indian sat in his little canoe,
A-floating along o'er the water so blue.
He sang of the days when the lands were their own,
Before the palefaces among them were known.

There was a time when the red men was lords of this soil,
They lived there at ease, free from sorrow and toil.
They hunted the beaver, the panther, and deer,
For they knew in their own wood they had nothing to fear.

The time when the white man first came to their land,
We used them like brothers, we gave them our hand.
We knew they were weary, we gave them repose,
Not dreaming those white men would ever prove foes.

But soon they began to encroach on our rights,
Their numbers increasing, they put us to flight.
They have driven us away from our own happy shores,
And the fires of our councils they burn no more.

Oh, where is the tall pine and cedar now gone?
The tall pine and cedar their axe has laid low.
The beaver, the panther, the huntsmen have slain,
And the red deer is driven far over the plain.

They have built their large cities all over our land,
And on our rich meadows their farms now stand.
They claim all our country from Texas to Maine,
And the red man may seek for his wigwam in vain.

Oh, where are the graves of our forefathers now?
They are rudely roamed over and tilled by the plow.
Their children, e'er needy, rejected and poor,
And the homes of their fathers they'll visit no more.