come now listeners
you old and you young
listen to the rhyme
that needs to be sung
about a fair land
of green trees and rocks
and pastures of amber
feeding innumerable flocks.
Once, long ago,
there were men in this land
living in harmony
staying their hand.
They killed what they ate
and built very sparse
but their beautiful home
is now just a farce.
Where buffalo roamed
now there's girders of steel
and the wondrous trees
are under the wheel
of great ugly machines
crafted by men
from across the waters
way back when,
and the wise ones of old
who nurtured their home
are no longer free
like the buffalo to roam
and that great land
of rocks and majestic trees
is being killed slowly
by soldiers who seize
any land still pure
any land still wild
and this has been happening
since Lincoln was a child
So listener, take heed
and mourn those keepers gone
and ask the white businessman
what our land is worth in pawn.