I remember his words, "This river is cursed"
When the world was still wild and the white man a strange new curse,
a mother and child in a vessel,
three men with their bible and arms.
A cat-call has always been a sound like a shot,
that to a woman sets off the alarms.
They circled like wolves,
snarling and snapping their jaws,
speaking in tongues,
not expecting their prey,
the mother of Little Fawn,
Walking Raving
to have claws
Their lust quickly gave way to murder
Their want and their weapons were drawn
They tore Little Fawn from the arms of her mother
and cast her into the reflection of the sun
They circled like wolves,
snarling and snapping their jaws,
speaking in tongues,
not expecting their prey,
the mother of Little Fawn,
Walking Raven,
to cast a curse on the river,
a debt that would have to be paid-
three white men would suffer their flesh to the water
each trip around the sun from that day
And they circle like wolves,
snarling and snapping their jaws,
speaking in tongues,
on the banks of the river,
where the bones of Little Fawn,
and Walking Raven
lay
