The Last Of Her Tribe
She went without an eulogy none for her shed tears
by Francis Duggan
The last of her tribe has been dead for many years
No headstone with writing on it to tell of where she lay
So that others respect to her memory might pay.
'Tis said her grave is by the tall mountain trees
Her people were wiped out by white people's disease
Her three children died death did not spare the young
The last of her tribe and she too died unsung.
The last of her tribe lived to be old and gray
But sad to think she is forgotten today
'Tis said her spirit to her tribal lands did fly
And that she lives again when the hunting owl cry.
The last of her tribe was spiritual and kind
And any flaw in her would be hard to find
'Tis said her bones lay in the shade of the trees
And at midnight she can be heard crying in the breeze