Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song My Country Tis of Thy Peo, artist - Buffy Sainte-Marie. Album song Little Wheel Spin And Spin, in the genre
Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Record label: Vanguard
Song language: English
My Country Tis of Thy Peo |
Now that your big eyes have finally opened |
Now that you’re wondering how must they feel |
Meaning them that you’ve chased across |
America’s movie screens |
Now that you’re wondering how can it be real |
That the ones you’ve called colorful, noble and proud |
In your school propaganda, they starve in their splendor |
You’ve asked for my comment, I simply will render |
My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |
Now that the long houses breed superstition |
You force us to send our toddlers away |
To your schools where they’re taught |
To despise their traditions |
You forbid them their languages, then further say |
That American history really began |
When Columbus set sail out of Europe |
Then stress that the nation of leeches that conquered this land |
Are the biggest and bravest and boldest and best |
And yet where in your history books is the tale |
Of the genocide basic to this country’s birth |
Of the preachers who lied, how the Bill of Rights failed |
How a nation of patriots returned to their earth |
And where will it tell of the Liberty Bell |
As it rang with a thud o’er Kinzua mud |
And of brave Uncle Sam in Alaska this year |
My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |
Hear how the bargain was made for the West |
With her shivering children in zero degrees |
Blankets for your land, so the treaties attest |
Oh well, blankets for land is a bargain indeed |
And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected |
From smallpox-diseased dying soldiers that day |
And the tribes were wiped out and the history books censored |
A hundred years of your statesmen have felt |
It’s better this way |
And yet a few of the conquered have somehow survived |
Their blood runs the redder though genes have paled |
From the Gran Canyon’s caverns to craven sad hills |
The wounded, the losers, the robbed sing their tale |
From Los Angeles County to upstate New York |
The white nation fattens while others grow lean |
Oh the tricked and evicted they know what I mean |
My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |
The past it just crumbled, the future just threatens |
Our life blood shut up in your chemical tanks |
And now here you come, bill of sale in your hands |
And surprise in your eyes that we’re lacking in thanks |
For the blessings of civilization you’ve brought us |
The lessons you’ve taught us, the ruin you’ve wrought us |
Oh see what our trust in America’s brought us |
My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |
Now that the pride of the sires receives charity |
Now that we’re harmless and safe behind laws |
Now that my life’s to be known as your 'Heritage' |
Now that even the graves have been robbed |
Now that our own chosen way is a novelty |
Hands on our hearts we salute you your victory |
Choke on your blue white and scarlet hypocrisy |
Pitying the blindness that you’ve never seen |
That the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory |
They were never no more than carrion crows |
Pushed the wrens from their nest |
Stole their eggs, changed their story |
The mockingbird sings it, it’s all that he knows |
«Ah, what can I do?», say a powerless few |
With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye |
Can’t you see that their poverty’s profiting you? |
My country 'tis of thy people you’re dying |