Medicine Bottle

Medicine Bottle, tall and strong, tried and true, Dakota Sioux.
He knew his fate, his head in hand, with nothing left that he could do.
Their homeland lost, treaty broken, promises unrealized.
They were free then confined to a stretch twenty miles wide.
Enough was enough of hunger, loss, and rage.
They tried to purge the invaders, return to the old ways.

Between the woodlands and the prairie lies the land of Dakota Sioux.
Stories told and remembered, it’s the right thing we can do.

Lincoln reacted quick thirty-eight to hang and die.
But Medicine Bottle with Little Six escaped north of the line.
Freedom couldn’t last tricked and drugged and dragged away.
To be returned to the soldiers a mock trial without a say.
A wooden scaffold, final steps; a whistling train drawing close.
Lasting words by Little Six, white man comes, Indian goes.

Their blood carries on in the brave and the strong.
Their names will live on in remembrance and song.