Drink From This Cup

Carved with stone and rock, dried berries crushed to paint the colors

Drink from this cup, our broth from turkey boiled over fire hot

My hands are no longer cold, I shiver no more, my coat of fur, buffalo

Deer skin on my feet, bear hide over my head, my native brothers feast

With me, as the women take care of the young, feathers plucked from birds

Will soon be dressed up headpieces and worn on clothing made by hand

The pheasant and the turkey, our hunted game we roast upon the fires flame

The hunt was long and tiring, though we have plenty of food to eat

Drink from this cup, and we will smoke our peace pipes and chant for better days

As our native men and women, shall never go hungry, never lay without rest

Cherokee pride, for the gift from the earth and the sky, the waters follow us

And the nights are filled with song from the owl, who watches over knowing our fate