Dance to the sun 

A kiss to the earth 

Embrace a stone 

Come the small black book 

Come the brandy cask 

One strange disease 

The well worded paper 

Signed by the drunken 

Hands of thieves 



And suddenly 

They were told to leave 



As the snake uncoiled on a road 

The length was eighty miles 

Wagons' weary horses 

Lead the feverish exiles 

Barefoot in the early snow 

On a ridge 

Where they beheld their home 

Coarse and barren 

Not the haven 

Promised by the Father 



Jaksa Chula Harjo 

Jaksa Chula Harjo 

Jaksa Chula Harjo ** 



The Red Sticks first and 

The Dancing Ghosts were 

Pierced with arms of fire 

And the weeping widows 

Left could not avenge 

So the Western Star manifest its will 

Drove them clear into the Pacific O 



Gone the way of flesh 

Turned pale and died 

By your god's decree 



For he hated me 



** Cherokee name for Andrew Jackson 

The 7th president of the U.S.A.  



Over your shoulder, please don't mind me if my eyes have 

fallen onto your magazine for I've been watching and wondering why 

your face is changing with every line you read. All those lines 

and circles, to me, a mystery. Eve pull down the apple and give 

taste to me. If she would be wonderful, but my pride is in the 

way. I cannot read to save my life, I'm so ashamed to say. 

I live in silence, afraid to speak of my life of 

darkness because I cannot read. For all those lines and circles, 

to me, a mystery. Eve pull down the apple and give taste to me. 

If she could it would be wonderful. Then I wouldn't need someone 

else's eyes to see what's in front of me. No one guiding me. 

It makes me humble to be so green at what every kid can 

do when he learns A to Z, but all those lines and circles just 

frighten me and I fear that I'll be trampled if you don't reach 

for me. Before I run I'll have to take a fall. And then pick 

myself up, so slowly I'll devour every one of those books in the 

Tower of Knowledge.