AN ETHNIC PHABLE
by John T. Baker

(A recently-discovered manuscript by the 
now-all-but-forgotten New Mexican/Indian 
poetess, Tequila Talkingbird, who mastered 
English but phlunked Spelling.)

Our phirst phorephathers phound this land
Bephore the White Man came
Phrom phar across the silver sea
In quest of gold and phame.

We lived in phull phelicity,
We loved to hunt and phish,
And though at times we'd phiercely pheud,
We had no other wish

Than here to stay, our sons to raise,
Our daughters shield from shame,
To teach them of the ancient ways
Bephore the White Man came.

His phearphul phirearms phoiled our phate,
He made us phight or phlee;
Our customs and our gods were phalse
In his filosofy.

He scarred our earth, dephiled our streams,
He set the phields aphlame,
Destroyed the homes where once we lived
Bephore the White Man came.

Our phamilies were phorced apart
To phag in phactories,
Our lands usurped or burdened by
Those phrightphul phederal phees.

We'll not phorgive, we'll not phorget
The bitterness and blame;
Phorever we'll recall those days
Bephore the White Man came.