Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Chief Bear’s-Heart Makes TalkLew Sarett
A
Our Big W’ite Chief,
De heart of all de Cheebway
In my tribe are good to you;
My people want your heart
Be good to all de Eenshuns.
Comes long-blade soldier, Major Rice,
An’ black-robes priest, for mak’-um treaty.
Dey mak’-um talk in council, so:
“Cheebway, Cheebway, mak’-um treaty;
Walk on far-away reservation and live;
You go new reservation, you get-um plenty t’ing
From Keetch’-ie O’-gi-ma’:
Get-um plenty grub an’ big annuity;
Plenty t’ing for belly an’ for wear.”
Den Long Blade and Black Robes stick one hand
On big black book an’ treaty-paper,
An’ raise-um oder hand to Keetch’-ie Ma’-ni-do’,
De w’ite man’s Big Spirit, an’ say:
“Cheebway, all dose t’ing on treaty sure will be!”
Stick-um t’umb on treaty;
An’ walk on reservation.
Wat’s come treaty now! Ugh!
Cheebway got-um small flat belly;
No got-um w’ite man’s big fat belly!
Blowing on de river wit’ hees icy breat’
An’ making dem stand still
Wit’ sleep beneat’ de snow.
An’ Nort’ Wind whistle crazy-wild
T’rough crying spruce an’ cedar;
An’ Muk’-wa, ol’ fat bear, he sleep
An’ shiver in hees hole;
An’ Pee’-nay, hongry pa’tridge,
Bury in de balsam snow-drif’.
Now walk on Eenshun wi’-ga-wan!
Cheebway sit dere hongry—
In winter no can get-um grub lak moose
Who paw big hole in snow for plenty moss.
No got-um lots annuity;
No got-um w’ite man’s grub.
Squaw, she got-um bad osh-kee’-shee-gwa’-pee-nay’—
She sick on eye lak devil-hell.
Squaw-sich, little gal, she got-um measles-sick,
De spotted-sickness on de face.
Little boy, he got um heap sick—
Bad coughing-sickness. Ugh! He spit all-tam’!
Got sick on lung, an’ hot on cheek;
Got eye she blaze lak wild-cat!
W’y should be dose t’ing?
Ugh! Go w’ite man’s town:
He got-um plenty grub;
Hees belly laugh wit’ grub!
W’y should be difference, ha-aaah?
Mebbe w’ite man’s God he want-um difference! Hah!
Mebbe Ma’-ni-do’ no lak-um Eenshun chil’en! Hah!
Mebbe Ma’-ni-do’ forget-um Eenshun chil’en! Ugh!
Mebbe so! Mebbe so!….
Mebbe no!
Look-um straight!
Talk-um straight!
Ai-yee! Keetch’-ie Ma’-ni-do’
He no foget-um Cheebway Eenshun!
Eenshun chil’en, good chil’en!
Big Spirit lak-um Eenshun chil’en
Jus’t so much he lak-um Long Knife chil’en!
Ho!
How! How! How!
De Long Blade raise-um hand to sky and say:
“All t’ing on treaty-paper sure will be!”
Mebbe….
Mebbe he was only fool for fun! Hah?
Ho! Long Blade only fool for fun! Ho! Ho!
Wit’ little poison-gland! Ugh!
He lie!….
Look on me!
Look on me!
No got-um double-snake-tongue!….
How! How!
Ho! Ho! Ho!