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Was not a church...
Was not a golden church with a high steeple,
The Great Father gave his principle people,
He gave us a valley with a mountain crown,
Cool clear water with game all round,
Four winds to guide us, a big warm sun,
From this our blessings did become.
The jewels of raindrops upon our heads,
The moon to caress us in our beds,
The rich soil where three sisters grew,
To forever sustain us, the Great Father knew.
The drum like our heart beat for us to keep,
Shadow of the eagle, red blood runs deep.
The wolf, the snake, the turtle, the bear,
The Great Father placed them there.
The stars at night when the owl flies,
These are our greatest prize.
A principle people touched by the Great Spirit's hand,
Yes, we are the Cherokee Band..
MARTHA MOONGAZER BEARD
DEC 27TH 2004