Oh, Cherokee sing your song
astride a horse of paint
Night of moonless sky
across the valley
from over hill
I hear you
still
~

Cherokee guardian of this night
overlooks earth and her plight
Knowing not when the time
shall be-for the rising
of the old Cherokee
Watch and wait
the hour is
late
~

Draw ye nigh from the flood
River red with the blood
of the great Cherokee
Along the trail he
still cries the
wail of the
Cherokee
in me
~

Turning<~~>Turning<~~>Turning
Will they never be learning
Stand down Great Spirit
tend the burning fire
It is now embered
forever to be
remembered
Spirit Fires
of ancient
Cherokee
<~>
 © Marge Tindal
Contact her if you wish to use this poem.