Native Americans, Fighting terrorism since 1492

Happy Thanksgiving to us in the US. This is the day we sat down and ate with the folks that helped us survive here... and then we drove them out of their lands, killed them and put them in detention camps. Anyway, here's a little ditty probably bluegrass, my favorite...marcalan

Grandad’s Last Wish                          m.mcvicker 2004

Don’t tell them how we made it through,
countless tears in dustbowl years.
Never speak of times you’ve seen,
no matter how hard they press you.
Things we’ve done, stay between,
an’ the young’uns don’t need to know.
Only speak of love and family;
all the sweet things of life, to them show.

Don’t tell them about this last run,
you keep that to yourself, my son.
Don’t tell them what all happened
that brought me to this death.
The loyal son leaned close to listen,                             
he smelled the vanilla whiskey on his breath.

Don’t say nothn’ how it all turned bad.
Don’t you teach ’em ‘bout these ways.
These times took from us all we had,
left us to scrabble, we couldn’t stay.

Don’t tell the young’uns   
how this drove your Ma’s mind away.
This business took the best from us,
I love her to this day.

I took her in the car,
to a place, that’s south of here.
I saw her standing in the window
as she watched me disappear.

Don’t say nothn’ to the young‘uns;
they don’t need to know.
Keep all this business to yourself.
Only sweet things to them show.

The loyal son stood  by
and he watched him pass away.
Outside the car was running;
he left him there, and made his getaway.

Daddy, won’t you tell me, how things used to be?
What was it like, who did you know,
when you was a young boy like me?