Riding fast and running long
across their endless plain.
They grew their crops for years
and years like corn, wheat, and grain.

Untill the white man
came from sea
and brought their pain and
misery.

They started a war with
bow vs gun.
The natives ran to
the hills for fun.

They fought very hard
and faced them well,
out on their lands
they gave them hell.

But in the end
the white man rose.
This is the Native's land
and everyone knows.

Rage'n Curtis

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/native-past/