Hold your little dove of peace, A gesture scanning generations, Of watching while your people, suffer with the ages of war,   War .. of stealing and killing, All you held dear, The love of the land, Which you grew by hand, Buffalo roaming free, No longer to be,   God's little native angel, Spirit of freedom, Like the eagle you soared, While the lion roared, Tearing your heart, Shredding apart, Loves living eternity.   Drums beat in the air, Feathers flying everywhere, Falling into the dust, Spiritless, eyes hollow... No old ways to follow.   Little Dove can't fly, Pushed into a cage, Of freedom she sings, Of running free Wild as the deer Old running bear, Clan of the brave, Now clan of the cave,   Of nations of tribes Long forgotten by those Who fought long To covet , what did not belong A people spoiled, by Vulture's last song.  Angells