Words Do Not Pay For My Dead

Whenever The White Man Treats The Indian As They Treat Each Other, Then We Will Have No More Wars. We Shall All Be Alike-brothers Of One Father And One Another, With One Sky Above Us And One Country Around Us, And One Government For All.

I Am Tired Of Talk That Comes To Nothing It Makes My Heart Sick When I Remember All The Good Words And All The Broken Promises. There Has Been Too Much Talking By Men Who Had No Right To Talk. It Does Not Require Many Words To Speak The Truth.

We Had Good White Friends Who Advised Us Against Taking The War Path. My Friend And Brother, Mr. Chapman, Told Us Just How The War Would End.

The White Men Told Lies For Each Other. They Drove Off A Great Many Of Our Cattle. Some Branded Our Young Cattle So They Could Claim Them.

We Were Contented To Let Things Remain As The Great Spirit Chief Made Them. They Were Not; And Would Change The Rivers And Mountains If They Did Not Suit Them.