by Lorna McNaughton
There's a lot you need to learn dear reservation boys,
There's more to life than greasy foods and cars you take for toys.
The peddle for gas is not for hard pressed foot,
Just take it very easy dear, be careful where it's put.
You mean a lot to all of us, we really love you dear,
Please do not go to heaven yet, wait till the sky is clear.
The lonely struggle of your youth is sometimes very cloudy,
And boredom that you really feel goes not away by being rowdy.
When all the trouble causes you to look for things exciting,
Remember this, dear friend of mine, the fish are always biting.
For long ago, the boys of old, had values worth reciting!
Their moccasined foot-speed was to them just as delighting.
To hunt, to fish, and swiftly run, through country ever rough,
This was the reservation boy, and youth for him was tough.
"But this is now, we can't go back. Wake up and catch the bus.
Fast cars, and booze and drugs, are really only us.
Nobody cares, we're all alone, it's our right to cuss.
We're stealing cars and burning them, we like to watch the flame.
We're in this altogether now, we mention no-one's name,
We're so wise and bad is good, our parents don't even know it.
And as for all the stuff we steal, we know where we can stow it.
For we are wise, and to their eyes, we dare not even show it."
I've heard this song before you know, dear reservation boy,
It came to me so long ago, my heart faith to destroy.
It came, and now I see a way beyond the door.
To every man and every boy, of very rich and poor,
It is the love within your self, just waiting to be free.
Back to nature, back to good, for all the world to see.
Love your mother, sister too, and show it to your brother,
You'll find the happiness you need to over come the other.
I want to share this now with you, before the clock strikes 'leven.
The love that you can spread around, will reach right up to heaven.
Listen up now! Think and do, and we will be just as proud, as some grandmother long ago, of Ongwehonwe, in a crowd of reservation boys.
Ongwehonwe. Original Peoples
By Lorna McNaughton