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 Elsie`s Poetry




The smoke rises from the camp fires
Get ready for funeral pyres,
Not many will be left alive
As the white man means to survive.

Braves do the war dance round the fire
As the smoke drifts higher and higher,
Warpaint is smeared across their face
As they plan to protect their race.

Morning comes and the bloodbath begins
But in the end no one really wins,
Soldiers and braves battle to the end
Battle scars not even time can mend.

Battle over and no more war cry
Was it worth it in the end to die?
There was enough land for all to share
Which side was it that didn`t play fair?

copyrightę2006 Elsie

Elsie`s Poetry ~*~ Poet5170

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